


S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Collective on Love

by ThatOddNerd



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Romance, Second Chances, one shot series, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-04-06 12:11:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4221276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOddNerd/pseuds/ThatOddNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After receiving a request for another ship on one of my other one-shot prompt series', and a long standing want to open up another one-shot prompt series myself, I decided to...well...open up another Marvel one-shot series. I take prompts, just drop them off in the comments. This will cover the Marvel universe to the best of my abilities. Hope you all enjoy!</p><p>Chapter 1,6: Howard and Maria.<br/>Chapter 2: Anna and Edwin.<br/>Chapters 3, 5, 8 (sort of) : Jemma and Leo.<br/>Chapter 4: Karen and Matt.<br/>Chapter 7, 8, 9: Clint and Natasha.<br/>Chapter 8,9 (sort of): Bobbi and Hunter.<br/>Chapter 8,9 (Friendship): Bobbi and Clint.<br/>Chapter 10 Steve and Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Playboy Stark Has A Heart (Howard and Maria)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Eienvine " I would love one about [Howard and Maria]--how they met, or how she came to see there was more to him than that, or how they finally got around to going out." I went with how they met. :)

* * *

Howard , despite his flair and nuances, was never into those flowery over the top words found in those novels Anna sometimes left in the living room of the main house. The ones that spoke of love at first sight and knowing you've met the person you will marry, your soul being sure of it without a doubt. The ones that proclaimed that your entire life would change when you saw that person. The ones that said you'd become obsessed with changing  in some way or another to be good enough for the person your heart was now telling you you had to know. 

Until he met Maria Carbonell. 

Peggy, Daniel, and himself had gone to a hospital in the city to deliver new medical technology that was to help with the recent increase in patients. Maria was a nurse at the hospital, in charge of her ward and  to be the one receiving the delivery, as Dr. Chesick, the one originally meant to sign for and oversee the distribution of the tech, was called to surgery before they had arrived. Maria Carbonell, one of the few people Chesick trusted in the hospital, stood proud, businesslike, and at the same time, approachable, at the delivery bay. Peggy hopped out of the delivery truck and walked over to her, beaming, Daniel following as fast as his leg could carry him, but Howard...Howard stayed behind in the truck, staring. 

Maria was stunning to say the least, her dark brown hair, sparkling eyes, and nice build would have caught anyone's  eye. However, there was something else about her that made Howard stop in his tracks, a feeling so intense that he would be lying if he said it didn't scare him a bit. (Alright, a whole hell of a lot.) He felt drawn to her in a way that he'd never felt with any of the other girls he'd fooled around with in the past, and brought on an urge to become...a better version of himself. He wanted, suddenly more than anything else, to be able to erase his playboy history and be able to go up to her and ask her on a date and not be hindered by the idea, had by her, that she'd end up another notch in his bedpost. Because he didn't want her to be another notch, he wanted her to be it, he wanted her to be the only person near his bed at all. The only woman in his life. The woman he married.

Married.

Marriage. 

She made him consider marriage. 

Oh dear god.

"Howard? Are you alright? It's a good thing we're at a hospital. Do you need to go inside?" Howard snapped out of his thoughts and looked over to see all three of them standing by the door to the truck. Peggy and Daniel exchanged knowing glances, and Maria was eying him questionably. Peggy, the one who had spoken, coughed and turned to Maria. "I'm sure you've heard of the man himself, here's the legend Ms. Carbonell, Howard Stark. Howard Stark, this is Maria Carbonell, the head nurse of the trauma unit." 

"I..." Howard climbed out of the truck and shook Maria's outheld hand, a bit more vigorously than he had intended, his face flushed. He heard Daniel snicker and it took all his control not to glare at him. "Hello Ms. Carbonell. Sorry, I'm just... I didn't sleep well last night, nervous about the tech, I'm a bit out of it today. Apologies." Maria's critical stare softened, or so he believed, and she smiled. 

"It's quite alright Mr. Stark, we all lose sleep over our worries, especially ones as big as this. It's nice to meet you." 

"And I you." Howard tried to put on his old charming smile, but he was sure he looked like a complete idiot. He heard Daniel cough violently next to him, Peggy's hand on his shoulder, his entire body turned away from them, shoulders shaking.

"Are you alright Agent Sousa?" Maria asked, puzzled. 

"Oh he's fine." Peggy replied, patting her husband on his shoulder. "Just swallowed some of his own spit and it went down the wrong way. Shall we get on with the unloading?" Maria nodded, beaming herself, and the rest of the delivery went smoothly. Near the end of their time there, Maria asked Howard what had possessed him to create such a device that could aid in finding broken bones, fractures, and other such things through imagery alone. Howard blushed. Blushed. Peggy made sure to file that away for future blackmail as she helped Daniel up the steep-ish incline back into the truck. 

"Too many men in the war who had too many invasive surgeries that resulted in too many serious life ending infections, all to find a bullet or a piece of shrapnel." His expression had grown dark and serious as he recalled some of the horror's he'd witnessed when he'd gone with a few of his doctor friends into the medical tents. " I couldn't help them with that during the war but I'd like to think I could help people here." Maria once again eyed him cautiously before smiling and nodding her head.

"That's very admirable of you Mr. Stark. This technology is very valuable, I understand why you wanted to have two government agents with you for the delivery. Thank you for choosing our hospital to test it out on." Maria held out her hand once more for him to shake, and he did so, blushing.

"I...you're welcome. I'll be back occasionally to see how things are going and train more people to use the machine." 

"We'd like that very much Mr. Stark. Hope you have a safe trip back to your warehouse." With that, Maria turned on her heel and walked back into the hospital, leaving Howard somewhat dumbstruck by the experience. He heard laughing behind him and whirled around to see Peggy and Daniel laughing so hard there were tears in their eyes. 

"Very funny." He snapped, climbing into the truck and nodding to the driver. "Hilarious. So happy you two are enjoying this." 

"Oh come on Stark, this was a golden moment. We got to see the great Howard Stark literally speechless in the presence of a woman. We got to see the great Howard Stark blush like a little child with a crush." Daniel remarked, smirking and leaning back in the seat. 

"Rather a large child with a crush." Peggy quipped. 

"Shut up."

"Ohh such harsh words. We must be right." Daniel was enjoying this way too much. 

"Can it Sousa." 

"Which one?" Peggy and Daniel asked at the same time, their grins as wide as ever.

"Hilarious. You two are a riot. Never ever work with a married couple, this is a disaster." This just caused a fresh round of laughter from the two sitting next to him, and Howard slumped in his seat, pouting. 

After ten minutes of silence, Peggy nudged Howard gently with her elbow. He turned his head towards her, eyebrow raised.

"She's a nice girl Howard, I approve. We both do." 

"Which is why it'll never work out." Howard replied, with a fair amount of sadness in his voice.

"Why the hell not?" Peggy asked, indignant. 

"You know what my history is like Peg, everyone does. Including her. She'd never see me as anyone but the playboy that the presses love to talk about." Peggy's face lapsed into an expression of pure concern before she sighed and turned her attention back to looking at the road before them. 

"Poppycock." She sniffed. "I'm calling you out on your poppycock Howard. I believe near the end she was quite fond of you. You let her see the real you, the caring you. The one who deserves to be loved. The side of you you let very few people see. If you truly believe she is the one, and she likes you as well, well..." She laced her fingers with Daniel's, the latter smiling back at her warmly. "...then nothing is going to get in the way of the two of you being together. Love is a mysterious thing Howard, it can  hit you at any time. I do not believe it is so simple and straight forward as you seem to believe it to be." 

Howard hadn't known what to say, so he simply nodded and gave her a sheepish smile. As the truck pulled into the brand new Stark Industries warehouse, Howard let himself consider a future where he'd be happy. A future involving a family. A future involving Maria Carbonell. 

A damn good future in his opinion. 

  


The end. 


	2. Like A Ship Coming To Shore (Anna and Edwin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they finally arrived in the United States, both of them were tired and wary of the people around them. But they knew, despite all the unknowns they faced, they had each other.

* * *

 

When they finally arrived in the United States, both of them were tired and wary of the people around them. But they knew, despite all the unknowns they faced, they had each other.

Travel overseas hadn't been particularly rough, not in the comfort sense at least. Stark had insisted on paying for their journey, even though they'd protested quite a bit. In the end, Stark had bribed the ship crew to take their things to a first class cabin a few cabins down from his, and bought up the other cabins (Upon pressing from Anna, he told her that he gave the tickets to people who hadn't been able to afford it themselves.) so they'd have no other choice. No, they were tired and wary from a different sort of journey, the one they'd gone through to get here. The legalities, the escape, the constant looking over their shoulders to see if anyone was following them. 

Once state-side Stark once again threw another curve ball and insisted that they stay with him at his mansion in Brooklyn. Admitting that they really didn't have anywhere else to go except maybe a hotel, which they had a feeling he'd insist on paying for anyway, they agreed to that as well. Insisting on giving them their privacy, Stark gave them the servant's quarters house, a rather large area attached to the main house. Things were working out like a fairy tale. 

But that didn't stop the worry all together. The anxiety, the looking over their shoulders at all times.

"Anna..." Anna jumped at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder, turning to see Edwin looking at her, concerned. They were sitting in the garden at the mansion, a pitcher of lemonade and some sandwiches on the table in front of them. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and there was a nice breeze wafting through. Anna frowned and then forced a smile, taking his hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

"I'm sorry my love, I didn't mean to put such an expression on your face." Edwin's face did not lose it's concern and Anna sighed. " It's ridiculous, I know, but I keep waiting...I keep waiting to see one of the general's men coming through the gardens to ...to take me back. To take me to the embassy. To have me deported...to...to take me away from you. This...this life is going to take some getting used to. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop so to speak." 

"Or tie." Edwin offered. Anna threw her head back and laughed, which caused Edwin to crack a smile himself. 

"Yes love, or tie."

"I know what you mean though. I've been looking for them as well. Every moment is extraordinarily tense, I must say." Anna nodded and smiled sadly at his words, lacing their touching hands together and the two of them falling into a comfortable silence. 

It was five minutes later that she decided to break it. 

"Eddie?" 

"Yes love?"

"Do you...you don't have any regrets do you?" She felt rather than saw him turn his entire body towards her in the chair he was occupying and felt a blush creep up her neck.

"Regrets? About what? You?" 

"Yes." There was a silence, and Anna began to worry, wondering if by asking this she'd made him begin to doubt, if by asking she was insinuating that she had regrets. Worrying about everything her question could mean. "I'm sorry." Anna said suddenly, jumping from her seat and pulling her hand from his. Her face was flushed and she felt the tears start to swell inside her. She was being ridiculous and she knew it. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't...I shouldn't have asked. It was silly of me. Why...I...I'm sorry. If you want me to leave I will. I'll figure something out, I... oof!" Edwin had pulled her down on top of him on his lap, and wound his arms tightly around her, holding her close. She rested her head in the crook between his shoulder and his neck, and then felt something wet drop on her nose. Tears. She felt him shaking slightly and looked up to see that he was indeed crying. "Eddie?" 

" Don't." He began, his tears making it difficult for him to speak, or so it seemed. "Don't you dare apologize Anna otherwise I may scream." Anna laid her head back down on his shoulder and wrapped her arms, the best she could, around his torso. "I've never heard such rubbish in my entire life." he continued. "Regret you? Regret meeting you, courting  you, regret...regret falling in love with you? Regret knowing that I've found the person I want to be with the rest of my life? Regret finding my soulmate? What utter rubbish. I am surprised at you, I thought you more keen...of course I...have I done anything to make you assume that I regret this darling?" Anna shook her head, or tried to, and felt the tears slip from her eyes. 

"No dear. You've been wonderful, so wonderful. That's what...I was just so...my life has been difficult, as you know, and I am always so wary of everything, every happy moment, every good thing to happen to me. I'm always so afraid it'll be taken away. People leave, people die. I'm just so..." Edwin kissed the top of her head and shook his, shifting in his chair to find a more comfortable position. 

"Anna, I do believe if I had any regrets, my trip into the city yesterday and what I bought would be a massive mistake." Edwin quipped, a grin forming on his face. Anna's head shot up, and she adjusted herself so she was looking at him straight on. That grin, that insufferable grin that had melted her the first time they'd met, was firmly in place, and she felt her heart beat faster.

"What...what did you buy?" 

"Well...you know, we had to pretend to be married to hop countries, and Mr. Stark put us down as such so we could share that cabin, and I must say, I liked pretending we were married. I liked it very much...in fact..." he reached down to rummage through the pockets of the jacket he'd discarded next to his seat, Anna looking at him in surprise the entire time. Finally he pulled out a small silver ring with a modest set of gems, emerald and sapphire, and put it in front of her. 

"Oh my god..." Anna breathed. 

"Well, I mean...you don't...you don't have to say yes. Just because...I understand if you don't want to, I just..." This time Anna cut him off, pulling him into a deep kiss before pulling away and grinning.

"Yes you fool, yes of course I'll marry you!" Tears streaming anew, Edwin's smile matched hers as he placed the ring on her finger. Anna kissed him again and hugged him close. 

There might be many unknowns in their future, they had been through enough to know that no one gets off without some repercussions, but for now they enjoyed their moment. They enjoyed their happiness, the feeling of coming home. The feeling of being like a ship that had finally pulled into harbor after being gone for so long. 

When they told Howard, several hours later, he first chastised Edwin for not letting him help pay for the ring and then insisted on having the wedding at the mansion. Anna and Edwin gave each other a look and grinned. No sense in denying Howard Stark his little wants. 

The End. 

 

 


	3. Screaming, Crying, Forever Changed. (Jemma and Leo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jemma came out of the stone she was screaming, crying, and thrashing like a fish being taken out of the water, muttering something about having failed everyone and blood. So much blood.
> 
> IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING, I SWEAR!

* * *

 

Jemma Simmons was 'released' from the stone three days after she was taken. 

Jemma Simmons was also screaming and crying when she was released, the piercing sound of her scream reverberating through the stone and giving the people in the room a heads up that something, _someone_ was about to come through.

Fitz, Hunter, May, Skye, and Mack were in the room, and everyone tensed when the sound filled it, Fitz most of all. 

"Jemma..." he breathed.

"How do..." Skye began, but he waved his hand to cut her off.

"I know what her screams sound like." He replied simply. Everyone grew silent, remembering what the two scientists had been through at the bottom of the ocean, and wondering when the worst things would stop happening to them. 

Thirty seconds later, the unhinged door flew open, and Jemma was flung from the ever morphing stone, right into Hunter, who grabbed her and moved aside as everyone else did, waiting for the stone to retreat back. Mack used a rod to slam the door shut and lean heavily on it as Skye slammed the latch shut and bent it with a heated crowbar so the box could never be opened again. An impenetrable, malleable sheet was tossed over it and soldered to the ground.  The entire instance was over in less than two minutes. 

Jemma was struggling against Hunter in the corner, screaming, crying, and thrashing her arms and legs. He called Fitz over to try and calm her down, warning him to not get too close. Fitz rolled his eyes at the warning and sided up to them, placing his hand on her shoulder when he saw an opening. 

"Jemma." He began quietly. "Jem, you're alright, you're home. You aren't in the stone anymore, you're home." She thrashed again, freeing herself from Hunter and wrenching her shoulder from Fitz, before scrambling off to the opposite corner of the room and huddling in the corner. The concern on everyone's faces was overwhelming, even to Fitz, who helped Hunter up before walking slowly to the other corner of the room. It was then that he noticed how incredibly pale she looked. Her clothing looked wrecked and she looked like she'd devolved to the seventeen year old he'd met over ten years ago. Small, unsure, and so so innocent looking. She flinched away when he got close and he felt his heart constrict. She didn't deserve this. "Jemma?"

"No." She managed through her sobs. "No no no no _no_! Leave me alone! Please! I beg of you! I know I failed, I know I failed everyone, you don't have to keep...keep coming back to haunt me and remind me of it! " A fresh round of sobs wracked her body, and Fitz took the moment to turn a questioning eye on the rest of the group, but they looked just as puzzled as he felt.

"Jem...you didn't fail anyone. What..."

"No but I did!" Suddenly she was on her feet, so fast that she almost knocked Fitz on his ass, and looked at him right in the eyes when he came to his full height. "I ...I failed. I couldn't...I couldn't save anyone, I ...everyone just...there was _so much blood_!" 

"Jem...when was the last time you saw me...alive?" Fitz asked, an idea on what had happened forming in his mind. 

"You were...you were dying. You'd been shot and you were dying and I was sitting there with you and there was so much blood Fitz. So much blood. You couldn't understand why I'd let you die and I...I just...we'd seen everyone else die and then there we were, locked in the med bay and you were on the floor and I was on the floor with you, and you were dying in my arms. And I snapped. I snapped Fitz, because I've faced so much destruction already. Seen so much sadness. But losing you? Losing you made me lose myself. I didn't know true agony until I felt you die in my arms Fitz. _You died in my arms_! I..." Fitz took advantage of her moment of weakness and grabbed her, bringing her into a tight hug and refusing to let go. 

"Jem, Jem, shhh. I'm here, we're all here. We aren't dead. I haven't been shot to death. You can feel me right? I feel solid. If I were a ghost, would I feel solid?" Jemma, after struggling for a few seconds, went limp in his arms, and shook her head at his question. " Jem, the Kree Stone took you three days ago. It's been three days for us. You were taken from me...again. But you're back, you're safe. I'm safe. The last time you saw me alive was when we ...when we were talking in this room about ...going on a date." He felt his ears and cheeks go bright red at the admission in front of the room of people, but continued, holding her close. "We're alright. You haven't failed us love. It's alright." Jemma kept crying but was no longer screaming or thrashing. She slowly put her arms around his waist and pulled herself closer.  Fitz gave May a look and May suggested that the rest of them give the two some time alone and they left. Fitz slowly guided Jemma to her room, punching in what he was hoping was still her keycode, doing a mental high five when it worked, and guiding her to the couch in the room. She clung to him the entire time like a safety blanket, and Fitz found himself cursing the Kree and everyone else that had a hand in bringing the woman he loved to the state she was in now. Including himself. He mentally cursed himself for accidentally opening the latch of the case, as he now realized he had, and wondered if he'd ever be able to make it up to her. 

"It was a month for me." Jemma said so suddenly that he jumped a bit. Jemma's head came up from it's resting place on his shoulder and looked at him, her eyes red and puffy with tears and her pale face startling him even more in the softer light of her room. 

"A month?"

"Yes." She paused and began playing with the zipper on his jacket. "I...I guess it was all an illusion, but to me it was a month. The Playground was stormed by Hydra and we were caught unawares and I couldn't save anyone, and somehow, the weapons distribution fell to me as well as the medical treatment and...there was so much blood Fitz...we... you and I were the last ones alive. I flipped the switch once we were in the med bay, locked off, to flood the base with that gas and...the sound of even more dropping bodies, and you were dying in my arms and... And then I was stuck there, no way of getting out because they base had gone on lockdown. I was trapped. Trapped with all these dead bodies and then you all began...haunting me. Haunting me and asking me why I'd let you all die. Why I'd failed you." 

"Jem..." 

"I know. You're all alive. It wasn't real." 

"That wasn't what I was going to say." Jemma looked up at him again, puzzled. "I was going to say that I'm happy you are alive. That I'm happy you were released. That you...that you didn't die in this illusion or had to keep dying like some weird time loop. I'm happy you're here." 

"Fitz...watching you die once in that illusion was enough to kill me for a lifetime. I already have almost lost you so many times that I...it was so..." Fitz drew her into another hug, this one she went to readily, and he sighed. 

"I'm sorry you had to deal with all that Jem. I'm sorry that happened. I'm sorry that nothing but crap has happened to you lately. To us. It's like the universe is conspiring against us. We finally plan a date and you get sucked up by an alien rock. Bloody rude." He felt her laugh and smiled himself, holding her just a bit closer. They sat like this for ten minutes, comfortable in the silence and knowledge that they were _there_ , that they were _together_. 

It was May who came for her, having stood by the door as they sat in their silence, waiting. When she felt like Jemma had calmed down, she coughed and the two looked up, not  surprised, not sad, just ...very tired. 

"I'm sorry." was all May said in way of instruction. Both of them nodded and Jemma got up slowly.

"It's alright. It's protocol. I understand. We both do." May nodded at Jemma's words, before handing her a thermos and what looked like a sack lunch. When Jemma raised an eyebrow at this, May actually blushed a bit. 

"Tea, the way you like it. And some food. You look like crap. You'll need it." Jemma's smile was enough for her to feel justified for going straight to the kitchen and making the odd packed lunch for her subordinate rather than going straight to medbay to prep for said subordinate's quarantine. Jemma, for all intents and purposes, was like one of May's daughters, and she was fiercely protective of her. She had resolved, as she put the kettle on in the kitchen to heat up, to watch over and guard Jemma herself. She still didn't know who she could fully trust of this new crew in the Playground and she wasn't taking any chances. 

Jemma was in quarantine for two weeks, several tests being run and her vitals checked and now improving. Fitz was there every day, staying for as long as he was allowed. 

After she was released, looking healthy and cleared for duty, she was approached by May holding a garment bag and a piece of paper. May handed her both and Jemma looked at the bag, then the paper, and her look of curiosity at the older woman made May sigh and roll her eyes.

"You and Fitz, you had a date right? Before you were taken. You've both been cleared for the afternoon and night. You can take one of the cars. I've made a reservation for you at a very nice restaurant. One you'll both like. There is a very nice dress in that bag and I gave another bag to Hunter to give to Fitz. You two go have a nice date and..." May smiled "...try to relax, you've earned this." May started to walk away from a stunned Jemma before she stopped, and, without turning around, said "If you need your leave to be extended until tomorrow just call!" The squeak that was emitted from the biochemist was music to May's ears, and caused the biggest grin she'd ever had, nearly split her face in half. 

They'd be alright, she'd make sure of that.

The End.


	4. All The Things You Suspected But Never Confirmed (Karen and Matt)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He ends up at her apartment one night after a particularly bad fight. He's bleeding but he'll live, and a part of him wondered why he hadn't just gone home, where Foggy was waiting for him to get back to bandage him up. He wondered why he'd gone to her place. Her place had been closer, he argued, but a part of him knew that that wasn't the reason why.

* * *

 

He ends up at her apartment one night after a particularly bad fight. He's bleeding but he'll live, and a part of him wondered why he hadn't just gone home, where Foggy was waiting for him to get back to bandage him up. He wondered why he'd gone to her place. Her place had been closer, he argued, but a part of him knew that that wasn't the reason why. 

He'd been tracking down a new cell of drug lords, they were popping up like wildfire after Fisk's arrest, and it was actually a fairly simple mission. Well, as simple as you can get when tracking down drug lord warehouses. Claire had told him that one of the higher ups, or so she figured from the heavy security that had come with him to the hospital one night, let it slip in a drug induced haze  as to how he hated that the place he worked at always smelled of rotting cheese and eggs. A sulfur  leak perhaps, industrial. Industrial warehouse in Hell's Kitchen, that didn't _exactly_ narrow it down. But it provided _something_ , some form of a clue, and for that, Matt is grateful. Foggy is waiting back at his apartment , medical kit in hand, (Claire is out of town visiting relatives.) ready to patch up his sorry ass after the fight, and yet he goes east when he comes to the end of the street that leads to the warehouse, not west. He supposes he didn't entirely know what he was doing in the moment, but again that other part of him pipes in and says he knew full well why he went that way. 

People have had different reactions upon finding out who he is, what kind of double life he leads. Of course, not many people actually knew that attorney Matthew Murdock was also the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, but he'd gotten a pretty interesting idea, from both Foggy and Claire's reactions to him, that it was usually somewhat unpleasant. (" How many fingers am I holding up?!" Foggy's words still rang in his ears. A sigh, and then "One.") So he wasn't sure what to expect when he broke into her apartment, still bleeding a bit, but otherwise fairly functional. She was home, he knew that much. She'd mentioned to Foggy and him earlier at the office that she had plans to stay in that night. Of course, she could have been lying, but he didn't believe so. She would be in. As he slowly crept in through the window, he heard the sounds of her TV and shuffling in the kitchen. He'd only been to her place a few times but the route had been ingrained into his mind at one point. He got himself to a starting point and let his body just...move. Here he was, a trained fighter, master of the senses, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, and yet...

...and yet he'd failed to notice that the sounds in the kitchen had stopped. 

He was edging towards the door of her bedroom (The room of which he'd snuck through.), and he heard it before he felt it. Long, hard, and taking the wind out of him, the steel bat met his upper chest with a shocking amount of force, knocking him on his ass and nearly missing getting his neck snapped by the edge of her bed. He had to admit he was impressed by how strong she was, despite what he knew of her other strengths, he currently felt like he'd been hit by a car, and filed this strength away in his mind for future reference. He heard the floorboards creek and her voice, trying not to shake. 

"I...I work for...for a lawyer's office, you hear me? I can get your ass sued to next Tuesday. I have no qualms with beating your ass with this bat either, don't even try me man it won't end well. The stuff I've done to survive would shock and appal you. Plus I happen to know for a fact that the Devil is real, and he's saved me before so whose to say he couldn't find me now and...holy shit." She'd rounded the corner into her room, and upon seeing him there, rushed to help him get up. "Holy shit, holy shit, I am so sorry. I ...but to be fair you shouldn't have been sneaking in my apartment, that's mega levels of creepy. You knew I was a fighter, you really should have expected this and..."

"Karen..." he croaked, still slightly in shock from the blow. " it's fine. Miss Karen Page, I'm alright. I'm slightly more terrified of you now, but I am alright."

"I...how did...I don't remember telling you my name last time, did I tell you my...but of course you probably know it anyway. I got splashed all over the papers before. Good one Karen, way to be captain obvious, of course he knows your name."

"I'm not sure about those lawyers that you work for, they seem kind of...odd." Matt commented as Karen helped him sit on the bed. Karen sighed and shrugged, stepping away to go into her bathroom and returning with a first aid kit. "What? You did mention you worked for lawyers. Nelson and Murdock right?"

"Yeah." She replied, dousing a pad with iodine. " Avocados at law." She said with a slight smile under her breath.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing." She dabbed at the cut on his arm and then swore in frustration when she realized the blood had just soaked through. She couldn't do anything with the costume on. "Listen, not to be ah...creepy or anything, but I can't really patch you up with uh...with your..." She felt the heat rise in her cheeks and wondered how ridiculous she looked in that moment, blushing with the Devil on her bed and the extensive first aid kit she'd been given for Christmas between them, asking him to disrobe.

"Why Karen Page, I never. You wouldn't take advantage of a hurt man would you...ow!" Karen smacked him on his other shoulder, but he heard her laughter.

"You're a smartass. I bet Matt and Foggy, the lawyers I work for, would like you."

"I don't know if I'm up to meeting the family just yet. We really should go on a date first."

"Well then," Karen paused and Matt felt the air in the room shift suddenly, the tension rising, and he knew something was about to happen. " you'd better get on asking me out before Foggy changes his mind about that pretty blonde he used to have a thing with Matt."

And there it was.

He felt...what? Relieved? Surprised? Baffled? Hurt that he hadn't been able to fool her? What? What was he feeling? He felt his mask being gently taken off, and soon, Karen, surrounded by the ever present fire that was his sight of the world, came into view. Sort of.

"I have no idea how you get into this, or out of it, so it might be best that you do it, if you can." Karen's voice was soft but commanding, and showed no signs of anger, at least not at the time. Matt nodded, took the top half of his costume off, and Karen proceeded to patch him up without saying a word. As she stitched his wound (Old sewing habit, she later explained. Never sewed human flesh before, that was weird.) up, a million thoughts ran through Matt's head, including the ever present 'When did you find out?', and he wondered if she'd known it was him all along. He doubted she knew for sure, but maybe a suspicion? She had always defended the Devil so much, even in her anger, and had always seemed so easily placated with his excuses for being late and 'sick' and injured in one way or another. "I figured it out about six months ago." She provided out of the blue as she finished the stitching. "I mean, I had my theories. A part of me linked you to...the other you... the night you saved me. But I only ever had my suspicions, my feelings, my wonder. I felt solid in my suspicions though about six months ago, soon after Urich was killed. That day...after the funeral, and you just...you were feeling so alone and so worried. Something about you that day...something told me you weren't just talking about the law firm or life in general. That's a hell of a burden to bear Matt." 

"It hasn't been...too bad." He heard Karen laugh and shake her head, grabbing another swab and dousing it with rubbing alcohol. 

"You're so full of shit Matt Murdock, it's amazing." She dabbed at the stitched up flesh before grabbing the gauzy bandage out of the kit and starting to apply it. As she did, she kept talking "Does Foggy know?" Matt nodded. "How long?" 

"Since around the time Urich was murdered." Matt replied, trying not to think to hard on the fact that he felt his breath hitch every time she touched his arm. "He was at my apartment one night when I came back, badly injured."

"The time you were 'really sick'?" Karen asked, taking the fastener out and pinning it to the bandage. Matt nodded again. "Who else?"

"A nurse, Claire Temple. Someone found me about a year ago in a garbage container and brought me to her. She patched me up." 

"I see. Anyone else?"

"One or two non-important people." 

"Ah." 

"Are you mad?" Karen laughed again at this, but this time it was a laugh of disbelief, and Matt wasn't sure if it was angry or not. 

"Matt, Matt, Matt, you are a fool but you are a fool for good reasons. I suppose when I was figuring it out for myself I was upset. I wondered why you wouldn't tell me, wondered why you didn't trust me..."

"I wanted to keep you..."

"Safe, I know. But as _you_ know, I'm a lot tougher than I look. I would have been fine." There was a tone of reprimand in her voice that oddly soothed Matt, and he let himself lay back on the pillows behind him, relaxing for the first time in awhile. "Matt, I do have to know, are you really..."

"Blind? Well, yes and no. I can't fully see, I did get this chemical in my eyes as a kid, but... I can sort of see." Karen shifted on the bed and he saw her form crawl to the other side of him and rest next to him on the other pillows.

"Sort of see? What the hell does that mean?" 

"Everything's on fire." Matt replied simply. 

"Everything is on fire?" He heard the slight disbelief in her voice and he didn't blame her, it did sound ridiculous. "How appropriate for the Devil of Hell's Kitchen." Karen quipped. 

They heard a set of knocks, to the tune of Camptown Races, at the front door, and then someone entering the apartment next door. When Karen said nothing, he turned to look at her, sort of, questioningly. 

"My next door neighbors, the sweetest couple you'd ever meet, one of them had a scare a few months back. A bad one. A hospitalization worthy one. He got bashed by these thugs coming home from his work at this bar. It was awful. He was in the hospital for a week. His partner was understandably upset. He worried when Dylan, the one who got hurt, hadn't come home by three am, and then Jack, the other man, he got a call at 4 am asking if he was Jack Jones and did he know a Dylan Cooper, and yes he did, why, oh well you're friend has you as his emergency contact here on file at the hospital and...god, Matt, his scream of agony woke me up from a dead sleep. So I may have mentioned that I had a way of getting in contact with the Devil, and that I had my sources to help them, so we set up a system. They've been protective of me since I moved in so it's mutual. When we get back, we do that knock on each other's doors to signal that we're alright. Jack works from home so it works out well." 

"That was awful that that happened. Did it happen here in Hell's Kitchen?" 

"No, it happened just as he was about to descend into the station to take the underground to come home." Karen added, shifting so she could look at him without turning her head.

"I was gonna say..." 

"Yeah I know." Karen was looking at him, he felt her more than he saw her, and he felt like his skin was on fire in a way he hadn't felt before. She made him feel different, and, he noted, that wasn't necessarily in a bad way. 

"Karen, can I ask you something?" 

"Sure, what is it?" 

"Why aren't you more...angry? You have every right to be angry. I kept something from you, something rather big. It could have endangered you not knowing as much as it would have if you knew. I mean, what if Fisk..." 

"I know I should be mad, and again I sort of was back when I was working things out, but honestly Matt... being angry over this is a bit like being angry if you burn something in the oven. It's shit, and you don't know it's burning until your smoke alarm goes off or you smell it or both, and there's this lump of whatever it was you were cooking and it's burnt and that sucks, but I mean, it's not the food's fault it's burnt, not really. You can be angry all you like that the food is now burnt but in the end, if you stay angry at the burnt food then there you are, some idiot getting mad at a situation that was crap, sure, but in the end the world moves on. Being permanently angry with you over this whole thing is like being angry at burnt food. You can be angry forever but the world is still turning and in the end, you're the only one with the problem, you don't move on and that isn't stellar." 

Matt had never really considered it like that, and he supposed she was right. Foggy was right in his anger when he found out, and Claire was right in her anger and surprise, but in the end both of them forgave him for his crap (sort of), because they'd moved on. Karen just sort of...skipped a few steps. 

"Oh hell, Foggy's calling." Karen piped up when her phone came to life on the table next to her side of the bed. 

"He's at my place, probably wondering where I am, thinking I'm dead. Oh Karen, he'll say, Matt's dead, or sick, or missing, it's awful. Let's get the sign redo-ow! Stop hitting me!" Karen had smacked him again, hard, on his other arm before picking up her phone.

"Hey Foggy, yeah, hi. Foggy calm down, he's here at my apartment. Yes, I know, I know. We'll talk tomorrow, he's in no condition to move. I have some old clothes an ex left at my house, he can wear those. If you could bring...his briefcase and cane, yeah, thanks. What?" She turned to look at Matt with an amused tone in her voice now. "Yeah I can. Alright." A pause. "Foggy you're a dick. Okay. Yeah. See you tomorrow, bye." She ended the call, put the phone back on the night stand, and then took a book from it before turning back to Matt and whacking him with rather extreme force on his good arm. He yelped a bit in pain, causing Karen to shush him, and he glared back at her. "That was from Foggy for making him worry." She replied simply. 

They laid there in a surprisingly comfortable silence, after Karen insisted he change into some old ex's sweatpants and sweater, and Matt was surprised by the lack of voices and anger he was experiencing . He usually felt them at least a little bit, but right now...right now they were at bay. Until...

"Wait a second, you saw me change my shirt in your apartment! You ass, you could see me! On fire or not, oh my god!"

The next smack, aided by the same hard cover book, a copy , he later found out, of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, left a bruise that still shone purple three days later. 


	5. A Stone's Throw (Jemma and Leo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She came out of the rock at full force, dragging, much to everyone's surprise, Trip, with her. Both came back profoundly changed, and everyone could see that. Only Fitz had retained the hope that the woman he loved wasn't beyond his reach anymore. He knew all too well what it was like to lose yourself in all meanings of the phrase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know entirely what I was aiming for with this chapter, except that it was another "Jemma returns!" fic, but this was certainly not it. However, I still like how it turned out. :)

* * *

 

Jemma Simmons was missing for two months, ten days, and fourteen hours.

Not that anyone was counting.

Well, anyone but Fitz.

No one argued with him when he insisted the search for her become his top priority.

No one argued with him when they saw his tally for how long she'd been gone.

No one argued with him when he insisted he handle the case should...when... Jemma was found.

Skye made sure there was food and drinks left in places in the labs where he'd absentmindedly eat them, otherwise, she knew, he wouldn't eat nor drink.

May kept the ever persistent guards away from him, and the pesky people who insisted that Fitz was wasting his time.

Coulson cleared him to work on the case full time.

Mack offered his help with the mechanics when he could get a word in.

Bobbi, still recovering from her gunshot wound, would sit in the lab and take notes as Fitz talked to himself, texted Skye when she believed he was ready for food and the like, and occasionally offered an idea, to which, much to her surprise, he'd respond with "That's a good point." quite often.

Hunter stepped up his mission involvements, filling in for those staying behind to help Fitz.

Lincoln joined Hunter on missions.

No one really knew what to say to Fitz by way of comfort, there wasn't much they could say.

Until one day, while Bobbi was dictating , Fitz walking around the lab, talking to himself as usual, and May happened to be visiting, the stone made a sound. A dark, deep, rumbling sound, like thunder.

The entire room went silent.

The box rumbled, the unlatched door flew open.

And the stone flung not one, but two bodies, out. One was a medium height woman with brown hair in a braid, the other was a tall, well muscled man with black hair.

A man they all thought was dead.

"You grab Jemma, I'll grab Trip." May's sharp words brought Fitz out of his stunned immobility, and they grabbed the two and pulled them off to different sides of the hall outside while the door to the box was being bolted shut. Both of them were thrashing in the grips of their respective rescuers, as if trying to get up and away.

"Jemma! Jemma it's me! It's Fitz! You aren't in the stone anymore! You're at the Playground, you're...." You're home, he wanted to say, but at this point, even he wasn't entirely sure what home was anymore. They'd been secure in the fortress , but the last few months shattered that already fragile illusion. Much to his surprise, Jemma calmed down, before becoming almost limp in his arms, relaxing. She looked down the hall a bit where May had gotten Trip to stop moving as well, her eyes wide.

"We're...we're actually back." She croaked, her line of sight suggesting the words were for Trip and not the others. "We're back. This is...it's...this... we're back."

"Are we sure?" Hearing his voice in person, not just a recording via a black box or video, brought on chills and an odd happiness that left Fitz both excited and scared at the same time. "We...we've been tricked so many times...I ... where's my knife?" Trip's eyes portrayed panic and a fear so intense it made Fitz shiver. Out of May's grasp, he began patting down the clothes he was wearing, black mission style clothing, his panic rising with every second.

"We had to leave it behind remember?! You stuck it in that...in that thing." The caution in Jemma's voice bespoke of a wariness of a world the rest of them would probably never know. Of a horror endured beyond anyone's imagination. Looking at her now, Fitz realized her hair was longer, hence the braid. She was wearing similar mission clothing to Trip, her body, what he could see of it, had cuts and bruises. She looked like she'd been to war for years. And yet...she still looked young. She still looked like the woman he loved, she still looked as beautiful as the last time he saw her. But something was missing, something that he'd seen start to fall away slowly since they'd joined Coulson's team. Something he knew he'd lost at the bottom of the ocean, and had hoped, naively he knew, she never would fully lose; her innocence and untouched hope. She'd retained a bit of both before, but whatever had happened to her and Trip wherever they'd gone, took the last speck of it away from her.

And he'd never been so angry at the universe and himself in his entire life. 

"Trip!" Jemma shouted, making everyone, including Trip, look at her. By then, Bobbi had joined them in the hall, and guards were on each end, waiting. Coulson, Skye, Lincoln, and Mack were at one end of the hall as well. "Trip, remember every time we were tricked into thinking we were home, no one was there? Remember how there was that ever present red glow?" Jemma stepped carefully away from Fitz, much to his chagrin, and began slowly walking over to the young man. "Remember how it smelled of blood and rust and dirt?" She was a foot away from him now, looking at him with what she'd hoped was a reassuring expression. 

"Yes." He replied, his voice quiet, the calm not altogether gone. 

"Do you see or smell any of that here?"

"No." As if hit by a sledgehammer, Trip suddenly collapsed against the nearby wall, sliding down it full force, his body finally allowing itself to relax. Jemma walked over and sat down, slowly, next to him, her expression a mixture of sadness, relief, and exhaustion. "We're home." Trip whispered, mostly just to Jemma.

"We're home." Jemma agreed, putting an arm around Trip and holding him closer. "You're going to  see your mum again, and maybe even ask out that one lab tech I know you had a crush on." Trip rolled his eyes and she laughed. "And you'll see your friends and colleagues, and we'll get to eat actual food that we know and love, instead of whatever those things we were killing and eating." She put her head gently against his and sighed. This was clearly something they'd done several times before, dreaming and hoping for home, for life, for some semblance of normalcy. No one said a word, the tension in the air was thick, and Fitz felt his heart shatter seeing not only the woman he loved but the friend he and everyone thought they'd lost, beaten up and spit out by the universe. 

"And you can finally go on a date with your boy." Trip added, a smile finally forming on his face. Jemma's face, pale from malnourishment and possibly lack of sunlight, turned crimson. As did Fitz's. And everyone was looking between the two with knowing looks on their faces. Great, as if this moment couldn't get any more intense or mortifyingly weird. 

"Yes," Jemma squeaked. "I can go on a date with...I can go on a date with Fitz."

The hallway was silent for another few minutes, everyone giving the two their space, the torment they'd been through clear in their bruises, cuts, expressions, and the air they gave off. Finally, they slowly got up, using each other for support, and Jemma looked towards May, and flicked her eyes towards Coulson as well. 

"We understand procedure." She began, her voice containing an edge of authority and pride. "We know we need to go through interrogation and quarantine. We need medical help, and need x-rays and all that but..." she looked at her friend, still leaning a bit on her, and her expression became sad once again. "We... can we possibly...I don't know how long it's been here but we've been in whatever hell hole we were for two months, Trip was there longer, and we'd really...appreciate showers and real food. Then we'll willingly submit ourselves to all that. Please?"

Coulson walked down the hall towards them and stood next to May, looking at his agents, assessing the possible threats, before turning towards Fitz.

"What do you think Fitz? You're the head agent on this case, I want your input on this." Fitz walked closer towards them, his arms crossed, anxious and exhausted, expression just as wary as Trip and Jemma's. 

"Ten days and fourteen hours." He said, looking Jemma right in the eyes, which had, at his words, widened. "You were right, the time is different here. Bit longer but..." Relief, relief that he hadn't fully let himself experience before, washed over him, and he looked about ready to collapse himself. "...food, shower, you two need both. You look like shite." The tension increased, everyone waiting to see the reaction, before...

Jemma and Trip burst out laughing. Fitz smiled. The tension that had been increasing in the hallways dissipated.

Trip and Jemma were in quarantine for a week, being tested on every day, five hours each day. As they cleared test after test (Beyond malnutrition, a couple of understandable psychological issues, cuts, bruises, and, much to Fitz's dismay, some broken bones, five between the two.) Fitz felt the burden he'd piled on himself begin to lift more and more. However, he still couldn't shake the feeling of it being his fault that she'd had to go through this to begin with, because logically, he knew it _was_ his fault, no matter how unintentioned. He'd been fiddling with the latch, he'd accidentally opened the door. 

He was the reason she was taken.

"Fitz? You look like you did back at the academy when Weaver told you you'd gotten a 99 instead of 100 on that one exam." Fitz's head shot up from the D.W.A.R.F. he'd been examining through a scope to look at the person the voice belonged to.  It had been a month since she and Trip had returned and she was finally back in the lab where she felt, or at least used to feel, the most at home. Truth be told he wasn't sure how to talk to her now, if she still felt the same about the lab, about him. 

"Sorry." He replied, turning off and setting down the soldering iron he'd been holding. He took off his goggles, turned the light on the scope off, and stretched out, hearing, much to his chagrin, some bones cracking. "I guess I've just had a lot on my mind lately. A lot of projects to catch up on. How's that vaccine for Trip coming along?" As it turned out, coming back from the dead had some...side effects. While Trip seemed healthy and hearty after rest and proper food and hydration, his white blood cell levels were in a flux and his immune system was not as good as it appeared. He had yet to be cleared for missions because of this, so Jemma decided to create a vaccine that he could take with him  and inject like you would an epi-pen. So far, things had been coming along smoothly, despite a couple of glitches, and the vaccine she had tested on him seemed to be working. The dispersal and carrying of the needles was becoming a snag though. They needed to be small enough and light enough to carry on missions, and easy enough to inject if he was in a snag and couldn't do it himself. So she was, among other things, developing a patch, matched to his skin tone, that he could wear on his leg or stomach or anywhere else. The need to get him mission ready was mounting. The serum that they'd thought was gone, never to hurt anyone again, at the bottom of the ocean had emerged in fish products, and the need for agents (And an antidote.) was becoming great.  

"Understandable." Jemma replied, taking off her own goggles and turning her own equipment off. "And the vaccine is coming along fine. I have his supply for here and his stuff for the field is almost ready. But I could use a break." Her hair was up in a chignon, a silver barrette with a spearpoint surrounded by ivy, helping to hold it in place. Since getting back, she'd changed, but in small ways. Her hair being in a chignon wasn't unusual, nor was the presence of a barrette, although this one was new. But the colors...

She still wore enough color to make it seem like she hadn't wholly changed, but he noticed that this time it was accents. A necklace, a hair tie or band, a jacket or wristwatch. A bracelet. But her clothes themselves...they'd changed. Gone were the skirts, and the shirts , pants, jackets, shoes (Mostly boots these days, as he'd noticed.) and other things she wore were dark colored, sleek, and made her look like she was mission ready at any moment. He supposed she was, and that was the point. Not that he was complaining, she was beautiful in anything she wore. He just missed the bright colors and outfits with entertaining prints. They'd been so cheerful, so light...

So ...Jemma. 

She'd changed.

It hit him now, what she'd been going through before with him, what she'd been thinking when she saw him, what he'd been thinking when he was trying not to go back. Trying not to run to her. Trying and failing, to not forgive her for the real and imagined slights. 

He'd changed, she reacted, he'd yelled at her to get over it and accept that he was different now. 

The guilt he'd been feeling before multiplied and he felt ill. Here he was, looking at her and examining how she'd changed and judging her ever so slightly because of it. He'd been acting almost the same way she had, and yet...

She'd been training hard with May, Skye, and Trip along with them, harder than he'd ever seen her before. 

Entire conversations would pass between her and Trip with a single look. 

Something would happen, a car would backfire in the garage, something would pop, something heavy would fall from a shelf, even the weird whirring noise that happened when the air conditioner went on the fritz, and one of them would freeze up and walk away, and the other, either there when it happened or told after, would say nothing and go find them. 

They'd told them a rudimentary amount of information on what happened to them, but everyone knew they were holding back on some things. They knew and they let it be, knowing that there were certain things a person never wanted to relive, no matter how important. 

And it was then that he realized that what had been bothering him the most was that he felt like they were no longer really connected. That they'd lost the intense connection that they had shared for ten years. That the rhythm they'd been picking back up before she'd been taken was gone forever, replaced by a connection and understanding between her and Trip over a situation that the two of them would never go through. Not that he wanted to, nor did he want her to relive the hell she'd been through, but the tiny spring of jealousy came unbidden, and he felt a fresh wave of shame wash over him.

"Fitz?" He started when he felt her right next to him, eyebrow raised, a smile on her face.

"Yeah, sorry. Sorry. Just thinking."

"About?"

He looked at her for a long time, wondering if he should tell the truth, if he should admit his insecurities. He hadn't pushed a date because he didn't want to push her, and he knew she hadn't for the same reason. They were once again dancing around each other but they were oh so much closer now. 

"Us." he replied truthfully, feeling his cheeks burn up in embarrassment. One of Jemma's eyebrows raised and the most wicked and blush inducing smirk he'd ever seen, graced her lips. 

"Oh really? I like the sound of that. What about us were you thinking about?" Her voice was low, she was very close to him now, and the chosen outfit of the day, a black blouse that cinched up at her throat with short sleeves and black pants with navy ankle boots, made her look every bit the evil and oh so tempting woman of any man's dreams. 

"Are we...are we still...are we still us?" Fitz wished the world would swallow him whole  and then cringed when he thought of that analogy in conjecture with the woman standing less than an inch away from him. He knew he must have sounded like an idiot and he was wishing the wall was closer so he could hit his head against it. The completely baffled look on Jemma's face made it worse. He felt like an idiot.

"What do you mean, are we still us?" She asked after a few seconds of silence. Her face morphed from confusion, to hurt, to confusion, to hurt again, and he wondered what she was thinking. "I...do you not...did you..." Jemma's cheeks flushed and she began to back away, the beginning of what looked like tears, forming in her eyes. "I'm so stupid. I'm so...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just assumed...it'd been over two months for you after all and I just..." _Then_ it hit him. She thought he wasn't in love with her anymore. She thought he wasn't interested anymore. She thought ...almost exactly what he'd thought apparently. Good god, they were a mess.

And she was crying for sure. Lovely. He made her cry.

"No no no, Jemma, no." He walked over to her and cringed when she flinched away, her lab coat still on, body shaking.

"It's fine Fitz...really...it's...I shouldn't have assumed. I'm feeling...I feel humiliated right now but it's...I'm going to go now. I need dinner so..." She took off her coat ,stumbling just a bit, and was making a beeline for the door when she felt one of his hands grab hers, turn her around, and pull her into a hug. She was still shaking with tears, but let herself relax into him, putting her head on his shoulder and letting the tears fall. "I..."

"No, I need to say something. I'm sorry Jems, I didn't...that wasn't what I'd meant at all." He felt her body relax a bit, the tears started to slow down. "I'm still...I'm still interested Jemma, I'm more than interested...I..." Here he was again, wanting to tell her he was in love with her and being unable to really find it in himself to say the words. "What I said in the medpod hasn't changed." He wanted to cringe again. Way to bring up another painful memory. "I...I'm still...I'm still in love with you." He felt her breath hitch and felt it in himself as well, the words still so unusual to him, so foreign, so hard to say. "I'll always be in love with you Jemma. I think I've been a life long goner for awhile now. Even before, even when I was angry with you and we weren't talking as much, my heart was breaking but I think...yeah, I believe I was still pretty much madly in love with you. I think that made things worse." He admitted, recalling the painful months they'd spent so far apart even when they were in the same building. "I'll never stop. When we were looking for you Jemma, god...I wouldn't even let myself think of an outcome where you weren't alright, where you weren't alive. I was so..." He sighed and pulled her closer, thinking about the long nights and endless amounts of data he'd gone through. About the coffee and tea cups, and the trays of food Skye would leave him in the labs. About the intensity of the past few months...the past _year_. 

Jemma had stopped crying, her body was relaxed against his, one arm tight around his middle, the other one's hand fiddling with one of the sleeves of his shirt. She lifted her head slowly off his shoulder and looked up at him, eyes puffy and red, but relieved. 

"When Trip and I were...in that place, there were these creatures...some kind of alien, that would use this hallucinogen to try and capture us. Sometimes we'd be hit together and share the hallucination, sometimes we'd be hit separately and the other would have to bring us out. There were a few times we would be separated and got hit by it and we'd find ourselves in our perfect situation. Whatever the aliens were using would paralyze you, it was awful. The only way to move was to snap out of it and relinquish the ideal that you'd been given." She pulled away but took his hands in hers and ducked her head once before looking back at him. "One time...we'd been separated on this cliffside, and I got hit. I imagined I was back in the UK, back in England. I was standing outside a set of nice flats in London, staring at the front door, and I felt so...at ease. And then you...you came up behind me and made some joke about me turning into stone just to get out of helping with the move. And I smiled and pulled you close to me as you walked past me to go inside, and I ...I kissed you." Jemma's cheeks turned red, and Fitz felt his own heating up. "I kissed you and held you close and I felt so at peace and so happy, that when I heard Trip's voice in the distance, and felt the world shake as he tried to shake me and make me snap out of it...our situation had felt so helpless, we didn't think we'd ever get home really...I felt like it was hopeless...I almost stayed." She looked down at their hands once more, as if she was ashamed at her admittance of weakness, and he was about to try to make her look back up when she did so herself, her eyes bright and on the verge of what looked like another round of tears. "It was only a few days before we made it through. We were so close, unknowingly but still, so close to being home, and I almost gave up, because I thought...I thought I'd never see you again, I thought we'd never have our chance, and I thought that maybe...maybe if I stayed, the hallucination would last and I could just...stay there."

"Oh Jemma..." Fitz drew her close once more, drawing her into a hug and kissing the top of her head, before kissing her forehead, before hovering by her lips. An unspoken question was asked, and when she gave a slight nod, he kissed her. It wasn't rough, it wasn't entirely soft either, it was what they needed in the situation and what they'd wanted for longer than either of them would readily admit. When they broke apart, Jemma rested her forehead on his, not moving to go, staying in the moment.

"I love you." Jemma said after a minute of them enjoying just being _there_ , being _together_. 

"I love you too." Fitz replied, leaning in once more to kiss her.

There was a long road ahead, they were not safe by any means, but for now, for that time together in the lab, they were untouchable. 

 

The End.

 


	6. Lives Come And Gone (Maria and Howard)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the deaths of his parents, Anthony Stark goes through some things they kept in the attic of their home, and gets to see a different side of his parents' lives with a little help from Jarvis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Angst/family feels because why the hell not?

* * *

 

**New Years Eve, 1991**

It'd been two weeks since the car crash and Anthony 'Tony' Edward Stark, orphaned at 21 years old, was wandering around his parents' home as aimlessly as if he were drugged.He knew that one day this would happen, one day both his parents would be gone and he'd have to deal with funeral arrangements, the estate, all their possessions, and the public aftermath. But he didn't expect it to happen so soon. He didn't expect to be  21 years old when it happened. 

Anna and Edwin Jarvis, lifelong fixtures of his existence, watched over him in silence, making sure he ate something, drank something besides alcohol, and kept him from hurting himself. Anna, with her gray permed hair always up in a ponytail, her outfits modest but stylish, took charge of the household while Edwin, graying himself, going bald, and not as spry as he used to be, followed Tony at a discreet distance wherever he went. He wasn't even allowed to shave without one of them there. They were afraid he'd do something drastic. He wondered why. 

He was never close to his father, the distance between them bigger than the span of the Earth, even when they were in the same room. He'd been fairly close to his mother until he went away for college. Through missed phone calls, fewer and fewer letters, and his spending holidays at his apartment, they grew to know less and less about each other. 

Which is why he was surprised by how much the news of his parents' deaths shattered him. 

He'd flown in the day after the crash, needed to 'formally identify the bodies' even though everyone knew who the two most recent additions to the Long Island morgue. Among throngs of paparazzi, shouts from weapons protesters, and the occasional toss of objects, Tony made his way inside the building feeling numb and as if he was in a dream, a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. Jarvis walked behind him as calm as ever on the outside, but he knew that his old friend was feeling the weight of the loss just as much as him. The two, in turn, were surrounded by body guards. Being the son and butler/friend of the CEO of a Fortune 500 company  came with certain necessities. Tony had also not been prepared for how he'd feel when the morgue assistant pulled back the sheets over the bodies on the two  tables in front of him. There were scratches, bruises, deep cuts. His father had an unusual looking gash across his chest. His mother, gentle soul, kind face, always wanting to bring him and his father together, was just as hard to see. Her head must have bashed against a window in the car, it looked like it had bruises and cuts near the right on her forehead. 

"It's them." It hadn't been Tony that said it, but Jarvis. When the M.E. looked from Jarvis to Tony, who did nothing. "Trust me." Jarvis continued. "I've known Howard since the 40's and Maria since the 50's. It's them." The M.E. spent another minute giving them an odd look before nodding and having his assistant cover the bodies once more. Jarvis put a hand on Tony's right shoulder and led him out of the room, body guards awaiting them in the hallway, and back out to the car. 

Christmas had been grim. Anna had tried to cheer Tony up with both Hanukkah and Christmas decorations and music and gifts, serving all the favorite foods that he'd grown up loving in the house. Edwin would move in sync with her in the kitchen, decades of marriage making them a well oiled machine. Tony would eat, if only to be polite, but the joy he used to have from the holidays that Anna and Edwin would embrace for him was gone. They supposed his joyful light had gone out years ago, but to see him now in such a state during the holidays made it worse.

Tony was well aware that Edwin was politely following behind him, pretending to be busy if only to keep up the illusion that he wasn't following his master to keep him from taking his own life. He hadn't been to the attic many times in his life, his father telling him it was unsafe to go up there alone because of some unsafe prototypes he kept in lead lined small vaults in the room, but he felt the urge to go up there now. 

There were the normal knick knacks you'd expect in an attic, the vaults off to the side. Edwin came in after waiting a few minutes and sat down on an old couch twenty feet away from Tony as he opened a particular chest that caught his eye. It was wooden, carved with roses and lilies, and outlined in silver. It wasn't as large as a treasure chest, but it also wasn't the size of a jewellry box either. He'd pulled over a small stool and unlocked the chest to reveal a flurry of letters, ticket stubs, books, journals, pressed flowers, and jewelry boxes. His mother's old hospital identification badge was in a silk bag along with his father's several lab badges and old S.H.I.E.L.D. identification badge. He looked at the underside of the lid of the chest and saw 'Howard and Maria, July 15th 1955', their wedding anniversary. A chest of memories. 

There was a large envelope with the names "Peggy and Daniel" and 'Notes' under the names. Aunt Peggy and Uncle Daniel had come over from their current home in Sheffield, England for the funeral, and stayed for a few days, their son and his family watching their house for them. They left reluctantly, wishing Tony well and telling him they were planning on returning to the States permanently the following year, so don't be a stranger. 

He pulled out one of the folded pieces of paper , recognizing Uncle Daniel's clear hand writing, and laughing when he read the first sentence. 

_Dear Howard,_

_I would not advise you to ask Maria out by buying the hospital she works at, making her the director, then casually asking her out during a board meeting. I don't understand how you came up with this, and I am glad you decided to ask Peggy and myself about it first. I know you are nervous about this, but trust us (Us of course being Peggy and myself. Not one word about me being 'whipped', especially when you donated $2,000,000 to the hospital after Maria casually mentioned they needed new respirators and other supplies the last time we made a delivery for Stark Industries there.)  Peggy would have written this letter, but she is currently laying in our bed laughing so hard she's crying, and it was advisable to get back to you as soon as possible. Howard, fix your phones,you're an engineer, you have no excuses. Just find a quiet moment and ask her out to dinner. If she says no, I'm sorry, if she says yes, congratulations. Do not buy the hospital to ask a woman out. Please._

_Daniel._

_P.S. From Peggy: Howard, dear man, I am writing this with admittedly shaky hands as my laughter has not fully subsided. I cannot think of a more ridiculous plan than the one you just came up with. Also, I know full well why you have not fixed the phones and the phone line to your home; Maria has your phone number, you have hers, and you are panicking like a little child. Daniel and I love you very much, and we are very fond of Maria. Just ask the woman out for the love of God, this is getting ridiculous. Especially when I got a call from Dum Dum last night saying you wrote to him asking for courting advice. Howard, no. Call me when you fix your phones._

 Tony shook his head, smiling at the ridiculousness of the situation and how different his father seemed to be when he was younger. He read a few more letters from Peggy and Daniel before moving on in his discovery of a set of lives he thought he'd known. 

"My father was nervous to ask my mother out?" Tony asked Jarvis, who had been looking pensively out the window and into the back yard garden. He looked back at his master and a smile formed. 

"Oh my yes. I'd rarely ever seen him so nervous in his entire life. So wanting to not mess up. Except for the day you were born, and we both know how well that went. Your father...he ...I won't make up excuses for his behavior, because there really aren't any that make what you endured any more understanding, not really. But your father was a different man way back when. Not excessively different mind, but different. The first time he met Maria, I'm told, he was speechless, and then proceeded to make a fool of himself in front of her. I think he knew right away that she was the one." Tony couldn't help but give a smile at that, putting the envelope with the letters from Uncle Daniel and Aunt Peggy away before picking up another envelope filled with ticket stubs. 

"Cinderella?" he asked, holding out the remains of two stubs, and eying his friend questioningly. Edwin laughed.

"Maria's idea. Well, an idea Maria came up with after talking to your Aunt Peggy after Howard finally did get up the courage to ask her out. It was a test of sorts, of how much Howard really wanted to be with her. Animated movies weren't exactly your father's forte." Tony laughed. "He went, obviously, and sat through it like a trooper, and Maria told me she'd look over at him every once in awhile to see his reactions, and half the time, she caught him staring at her. It made her blush."

"So he really halted all his playboy ways when he met my mother?" Edwin nodded. 

"He changed so fast and so sudden that Anna was convinced he'd been abducted and replaced by some imposter." Tony smiled once more. Looking through a few more stubs, he put them away and picked up a rather large stack of envelopes tied together with string. 

"Love letters?" Tony inquired, looking back at Edwin, who shrugged. "I can smell mom's perfume." He took a letter out of an envelope and began to read it, his expression turning from mild interest, to fascination, to confusion. 

"What's wrong?" Edwin asked. 

" This letter...it's my mom...my mom trying to make my dad come home and not...not..." Edwin remembered then, a horrible incident not long after Howard and Maria got married, where a news reporter had written a piece on Howard that wasn't just damning, it was a muckraking and slamming so intense it sent Howard straight out of the mansion as soon as he read it. It detailed every publicly  known weapon Howard had ever invented, the number of lives taken because of them, and the crass former behavior of the billionaire. It even went so far as to suggest that he hadn't changed his ways for his wife at all and was sleeping with several young women around the city. Maria had known that part was a flat out lie, so did the Jarvis' , Peggy and Daniel, Angie, Chester Philips, anyone  that actually mattered to Howard knew the truth, but the media was cruel, and he felt the shame of his past hurl into him like a wave. He'd been attempting to cut down on weapons manufacturing, but the government had been persistent and his hands were becoming increasingly tied under the rather strict   commands from the president. Threats had been made to the people he cared about, and Howard was being backed into a corner. Edwin had always believed that the increasing pressure from the world around him, battling with his want to tone down weapons manufacturing, was the beginning of his most drastic change. The one that turned him into the man that Tony grew up with. The one who had become so fear stricken by the world that he became a strict, seemingly cold and uncaring father. True, there was nothing that would excuse his behavior as Tony was growing up, but the signs of his cracking happened long before Tony had come into the world. The only question now was whether or not Edwin would tell Tony as much. 

" A rather absurd and idiotic young news reporter wrote a rather slanderous piece on your father, accusing him of still having affairs with young women around the city, claiming that he hadn't changed at all and it was all a ruse. It accused your mother of either being too stupid to realize what was going on or that she knew what was happening and didn't care, that she'd only married him  for his money and as long as there was no divorce..."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." Tony had flushed in anger, and turned away from Edwin , too emotional to say anything.

"Indeed it was. Your father was many things, but disloyal to your mother he was not." Edwin commented, deciding that not telling Tony about the other things was a good idea. There was no need to complicate an already extremely complicated relationship. Not now when there was nothing to be done about it. 

As Tony went through more things in the chest, Edwin thought back to the incident, and remembered the fear he'd felt when Howard hadn't returned that night. When Maria burst into the living room of his and Anna's living quarters in tears saying that Howard had called her and that he was on his way to California to find a place to end it all. She'd written the letter in desperation, planning to use it as a last ditch attempt to  stop him from doing something that would shatter her. 

Maria and Edwin had flown to San Jose, the place in California he'd mentioned going to, that night, and spent 14 hours looking for the man. He was located in a hotel room, drunk off his ass, surrounded by copies of the paper with the article ripped out, a gun in his hand. Maria had walked right up to him, grabbed the bottle of gin he'd been holding, handing it to Jarvis, before grabbing the gun, disabling it (She spent _a lot_ of time with Peggy.), walking to the door and tossing it over the railing and into the pool. Walking back into the room she had a look of steely determination, one that stayed when she stood right in front of her husband. 

"Get up." she hissed. "Get up Howard, you need to take a shower, our plane leaves in three hours. You need to shower and sober up so we can go home."

"It's never going to end." Howard slurred, attempting to get up from his laying position on the bed, to slump in a sitting position, Edwin catching him before he hit the floor. "It's never going to end and now I've dragged you into this. I've damned you to a life of this...this crap, all because I'm a selfish man who fell in love." Maria sighed and sat down next to him, looking at the painting on the wall across from them, thinking of what to say next. 

"You are selfish." She began, staring intently at the painting. "You are selfish but you know what? You are not selfish in the way the world believes you are. Not anymore, not to the people who matter to you, not to Anna or Edwin or me. The world is always going to judge you but the people who love you? We won't believe them because we know the truth." Howard looked at her, his expression one of disbelief, and Maria looked at him, her own face betraying her anger, worry, and sadness all in one fell swoop. "Howard, I know the article was awful and upsetting and the things that were said pushed at your buttons and set off a trigger within you that led  you here. I know you feel like you've failed me and damned me to this life by falling in love with me, and maybe your right, but do you really think I would have said yes when you proposed if I wasn't sure? If I didn't know all that being your wife encompassed and what I'd have to deal with? Have you ever known me to be anything less than thorough with my decisions?" Howard shook his head. "No, so why, _why_ for the love of God did you think this was a good idea?" Her voice was beginning to break and tears were starting to form. "There is that awful article saying those terrible things about you and me and that hurt to read, sure, but you know what would have hurt me more? You want to know what would have shattered my heart and soul completely, what would have made me so upset and so angry I might not ever recover? You killing yourself. I love you Howard, and I will be damned if you leave me this early on in our marriage, I will be damned if I have to spend the rest of my life thinking of all the what ifs. I will be damned if I let some ponce with a job at a newspaper be so persuasive and ignorant that he takes the love of my life away from me. In my eyes he might as well have pulled the trigger himself. You are going to get cleaned up, we're going to get some coffee into you and we are going to fly home. You and I will sue the man and the paper, and make sure he never works in this or any town ever again. I believe in you Howard, you can achieve so much and be so much stronger. I know it. Now get up."

Howard had gotten up, he'd showered, they had flown home. The newspaper and the man had been sued, and Howard ended up buying the newspaper altogether. 

It had been difficult to watch the decline of his friend from the good man Edwin knew he was deep down. He had no doubt that that good man was still buried deep inside of him, even to the end, but the world and life as it is hadn't allowed for him to emerge again after the final spiral had begun. He knew that Maria felt her own life slipping away along with him. They'd gone from the loving couple he'd known for nearly 15 years (together) , to one of those old rich couples you read about in novels, they loved each other but their tolerance had waned and they were trapped. 

Edwin wished, more than anything else, that Tony had gotten to see his parents in the beginning, seen how much they loved each other, seen how nervous Howard had been, how shy, and how amused and smitten Maria was. He wondered if, had they lived longer, Maria would ever tell Tony how it had really been at the beginning. He wondered if Howard would have turned a new leaf, atoned for his sins, and connected with his son in his old age. Maria had been right, he thought, watching Tony look through the old jewelry boxes filled with the gems Howard had given Maria over the years, the what ifs about life were worse than anything when considering how good things might have been. 

 

The end.

 


	7. Last Chance Francis (Clint and Natasha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was a break glass in case of an emergency situation."  
>  "...that emergency was [in case of] the fall of an Avenger." 
> 
> -Fury and Coulson on the creation of T.A.H.I.T.I. .
> 
> It was an emergency situation, and Phil Coulson wasn't the only Avenger that fell after the Battle Of New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is based off a headcanon by Tumblr user phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess which was "What if they actually TAHITI’d Clint after Loki’s mind control… and his family isn’t real, but a cover, and he doesn’t know? You know what would be worse? If Natasha knew, and played along, because she saw it as his one real chance for happiness after being broken by Loki… and in all the world, the only thing she truly fears is the look of betrayal in his eyes the day the illusion is broken.". This headcanon gave me a lot of feels and so I asked them right away if I could use it as a prompt for a chapter and they graciously said yes! 
> 
> A/N/N:This MAY end up with a part 2 if you guys want it.
> 
> A/N/N/N: For those of you not in the know, Clint's middle name is Francis, hence the title.

* * *

 

They both naively thought everything was fine until they were two days into their 'vacation'. Natasha came back to their hotel after picking up something for them to eat, and the room was dark. Beyond dark. The blinds were drawn and sheets thrown over them to block out light even more, the room was silent, and she dropped the bags immediately, drawing her gun and looking around the room aimlessly for any sign of life. 

She walked quietly into the room, and had barely gone ten feet when she heard movement coming from the bathroom. She sucked in a breath and walked as quietly as possible towards the direction of the bathroom, unsure what to expect. Where was Clint? Did Clint do this? What was happening? Were they in danger?

She was right outside the door, her breathing slightly uneven, and she flinched when she heard her least favorite sound on the planet; Clint screaming in pain. She heard glass breaking, what sounded like a lamp hitting the wall, the mirror breaking, and muttering. Clint muttering. In between screaming and throwing, Clint was muttering under his breath, and his words sent chills down her spine. 

"Need to finish the machine for the tesseract. Need to finish the machine for the tesseract. Loki has given me my commands, I must obey. The world must be brought to it's knees. I have my orders." 

 _No,_ she thought, _no no no, this wasn't happening. He was pranking her, this was not happening._ Loki was out, he was out, Clint should have been his own person. Dr. Selvig was doing better, as far as she knew he wasn't muttering. 

Then suddenly there was complete silence, and she strained to hear inside the room; nothing.

She shifted her position, trying to regulate her breathing, trying to decide what to do next.

Funny thing about the hotel room, there was a table just off to the side of the bathroom, and it was there that management decided the decanters for people to fill with whatever overpriced liquor they wanted, and she remembered that she'd set one decanter that she filled with vodka earlier perhaps a little too close to the edge...

The sound of the decanter crashing to the marble floor that adorned the area near the bathroom was the loudest thing she had ever heard. 

 _"I'm not going to touch Barton. Not until I have him kill you. Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you fear."_ Loki's words reverberated in her head as the door to the bathroom crashed open and Clint barrelled into her, emitting a cry that she'd only ever heard him make once or twice in the most intense fights they'd ever been in. 

They hit the ground with an intensity that knocked the wind out of her. 

Before she could get up, he took her by the head and slammed it down to the ground, making her see stars. She heard him grunting, and felt him shift on top of her, preparing for another attack. Summoning up her strength, she grabbed at his shirt in the darkness, rolled her back up, and, catapulting her legs towards her, the flung him off and heard him crash into the dresser. She got to her feet and hit the switch for the light in time to see him charging towards her once more, the knife he kept in the top drawer in his hand. The look in his eyes chilled her to the core. 

They weren't the icy blue of a man possessed, they were his own, but they were cold, cold as ice and filled with pure anger and hatred, and all of it was directed right at her. 

"Clint!" Natasha shouted, dodging his attack and running to her bag to get the Spider Bites she kept in case of emergencies. 

"Natasha." His voice matched his eyes, and she could feel the dread in the pit of her stomach. "Or should I just call you Romanova? The spy, the assassin, the woman with more red in her ledger than I do, and that is impressive. I've killed a lot of people."

_No._

"Why did I ever trust you again? Tell me that Romanova, why did I even bother?" He was walking towards her slowly, a predatory gaze locked on, her breath hitching. 

"Barton..." she breathed, walking slowly to the center of the room, keeping her own predatory eye on Clint. "...this isn't you. You know me."

"Do I? Do I really?" The knife, the sharpest one of a set of other fairly sharp knives that she'd bought him as a birthday present the year before, went into the air before he caught it once again, slowly juggling it as if it were a ball. "Because lately it feels like we don't really connect. Lately we've been going on so few missions together, and I've been trying to understand what happened. We're such a good team aren't we? Or was that all a lie?"  The knife flew through the air and missed her left ear by a fraction of a centimeter, before lodging itself in the wall behind her. Another knife was in his hand before she could even blink, and her breathing became heavier as she worked out a plan to take him out. The knife in the wall had been a warning, she was trying to read if the next one would be too, and needed to think fast. 

"You do. You know how S.H.I.E.L.D. is, they don't have enough agents that are able to work the field as well as we do. They're stretched thin in a metaphorical sense. So we got split up." A hallow laugh from the man in front of her sent another chill down her spine. She grabbed a pillow and threw it right as he threw the next knife, before diving back to her bag and grabbing the Spider Bites, slipping them on and activating them, turning around in time to see him right over her, yet another knife in hand. 

"I don't miss Romanova." He warned. 

"I know you don't." she was crawling backwards on the ground, her initial ideas flying out the window and new ones forming. Trained by the best during his time at the travelling circus of criminals he'd been with as a kid and young adult, she'd never met someone with better aim. 

Or better calculations. There were times when he outwitted her and got the upper hand. Those times when they were sparring and he got her to the ground in under a minute. The times when he would create the most effective, terrifying, groundbreaking computer viruses and hacks that they used during missions. One of Clint's best kept secrets was that he was a genius. But the dulled down act served him well, so he went with it. Only she ever saw the truth. 

And the truth was if she didn't keep on her game, if she wasn't 100% aware of her surroundings, her limits, his limits, and the realities of whether or not she could gain an upper hand, he could kill her. 

And what was more terrifying than that is that there was a part of her that would let him, because she did not want to be the one to kill the most important person in her life. She would not watch her best friend, her partner...

_"Is this love Agent Romanoff?"_

...the love of her life, she would not watch him die in front of her. Their relationship was bizarre and no one really understood except them.

And maybe Coulson.

But Coulson was gone now, and they were alone. 

And Clint was not himself. Loki might have been gone but his hold was not. 

This was not the man she'd known for the last ten years. This was not the man she confided in. This was not her best friend, her partner, the love of her life. He was gone. He was gone and Loki killed him. 

"Clint," she altered the tone in her voice, relaxed her features, and hoped for the best. If she couldn't convince him outright, maybe she could trick him. " you're scaring me. Come on, you do know me, you...you love me. We're connected. We're a team. You yourself told me we might as well be one person because we flow together so well. We understand each other." No response. Backtrack or keep pushing, she was still trying to decide when Clint, his legs on either side of hers by her knees, crouched down, the knife, gleaming in the light, dangerously close to her arm. 

"The connection was  a lie Romanova. I think we both knew that. We tricked ourselves...or maybe I just tricked myself, into thinking there was more, when in reality...I was being played. Perhaps we were playing each other, our supposed connection making it easier for us to believe in a lie we created." 

_"All the ways he knows you fear."_

"You never loved me, and how could you? You can't love at all. The Red Room made sure of that. Little Natalia Romanova, a hollow shell of a girl." Natasha kept the hiss that came up through her throat as she felt the tip of the blade touch her skin. 

"You're wrong." Natasha breathed, the plan to take him out now perfectly within her vision. She knew what she would do. "You're wrong Clint and you know as much. We...we might not remember much of the same thing when it came to the fighting in Budapest but you remember, you remember that night. We both do , don't say you don't remember Budapest." Fucking Christ she was crying. This was not working out. _Pull it together Romanova, pull it together or you're going to die._  

To her surprise, Clint had halted, his eyes searching her own for traces of deceit. She'd surprised him. He hadn't expected her to bring that up. Perfect. She carefully pushed herself up on her elbows and shifted herself, preparing to jump at him. In the few seconds he crouched there, stunned, she lunged, knocking him onto his back, the knife flying out of his hand, and her grip on him, thighs on either side of his torso, holding on like a vice, holding him in place for a few more crucial seconds.   

"Clint," she breathed, looking him in the eyes, breathing heavy as ever. "I'm sorry about what I'm about to do and what is about to happen. I'm only doing this because...because I love you." 

The last thing Clint saw before the world went black was the tears rolling down Natasha's face, and the last thing he heard was the cry she let out as she came forward, Spider Bites bright blue and crackling. 

* * *

 

"I'm sure." Natasha said before Fury was even all the way into the room. He quirked an eyebrow at her and shrugged, walking over to where she was standing in front of the glass that looked out into the surgery room. 

"This is a big decision." Fury commented. 

"I'm his power of attorney, I'm the one who gets to make this decision."

"He has a brother."

"Him and Barney don't talk. They haven't in years. Barney doesn't even know he's with S.H.I.E.L.D.." Fury let it slide. They watched in silence for ten minutes before a young woman in scrubs walked in, covered in blood and looking all the worse for wear. 

"Dr. Fullster, how is the other patient doing?" Dr. Fullster, a woman Natasha had met before at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, brunette  curly hair (Now up in a bun and under a surgical cap.), kind eyes looking tired, smiled weakly. 

"They're...out of surgery." she replied, eying Natasha with the expression of someone unsure as to how much they were supposed to say around someone not within a secret loop.

"Alive?"

"Alive." 

"How did it go?" Dr. Fullster sighed, letting some of the fatigue she was holding back come through, and pulled a roller chair out from a desk to sit down.

"I'm surprised that despite these soundproof walls you couldn't hear them screaming."She admitted, a look of horror passing over her. "They begged us to stop, to...to let them die. It was horrific." 

"I'm sorry you had to go through that but it was necessary." Fury's words did not match his own fatigue, radiating off his body in waves. 

"I just want to go home and hug my kids." Dr. Fullster admitted, a slight smile coming through. "Things have been difficult since James was killed." Fury nodded. "It's funny, you warned us all those years back about the dangers of being together, and we didn't believe you. Most of what you warned never happened, but this..." 

"It's hard." Fury added. "Especially when the kids are very young. Your youngest, a girl, she's three right?" Fullster nodded, some of her fatigue returning to her face. Fury turned back towards the window, and as Clint's first piercing screams filled that room and the one they occupied, he flinched. Nick Fury flinched. "Dr. Fullster, how would you like to take on a different kind of mission?" 

"A different kind of mission? How do you mean sir?" 

"Barton here...he's been gutted, his mind was taken and gutted out and replaced with an anger so intense it even scared me. Loki did a number on him that is worse than any kind of torture man kind can ever create. He's going to need a reset button of sorts and it's going to change a lot. He's going to be battling some intense memories and there will be several triggers that could send him off. It will take time, but eventually whatever anger he is holding will be gone. But it'll take a few years. Meanwhile, he's going to need more monitoring."

"What are you asking me to do sir?" Dr. Fullster asked, rising slowly out of the chair.

"Barton's childhood home in Iowa is still standing, and better than that it's in the middle of no where. It's a perfect place for a quiet life and quiet observation. A good place to heal. In order to do this he will need to be fed a different sort of story. He'll need to have parts of himself removed and eventually he'll be back to normal but until then, if he isn't on a mission or around Romanoff, he's going to need someone watching him. He's going to need projects like building and tinkering to keep him busy, to keep his mind off the anger that's trying to break through."

"You want me to be his monitor." Dr. Fullster said. Fury nodded. "Why...why can't Agent Romanoff be his monitor? Aren't they partners? Best friends? Why..."

"Because we need to feed him new memories, ones that aren't involved with S.H.I.E.L.D., ones that he can build happy memories off of not related to the trauma he's endured." 

"I see." Fullster looked as if she was seriously considering the offer, and her expression changed once again to concern. "My kids..." 

"Can come." Fury added. "Your daughter is young and your son is as well. Just...you can tell them some story about him being their father and in a few years they'll believe it. Step father if you must, but tell them not to call him their step father, it'll...hurt their feelings or something." 

"What about income? A place for my kids to go to school? Security?"

"All will be taken care of." Fullster contemplated another second, before the sound of Clint begging to die filled the room. She saw Agent Romanoff tense, go to the window, and not take her eyes off the man on the table. It was clear to her that she was being allowed to witness a moment of extreme weakness of one of the most feared agents in the entirety of the organization, and the intensity of what was at stake for her, the man on the table, and the future of both of their sanities was coming into view. Dr. Fullster walked over as close as she dared by Agent Romanoff and looked into the room herself, Agent Barton barely visible among the doctors, assistants, machinery and tubes. The sadness, anger, and sheer hopelessness that the red head was emanating felt all too familiar. 

"You love him." It wasn't a question in any way, it was a comment. No one at S.H.I.E.L.D. had ever been entirely sure of the depth of the relationship between the two members of Strike Team Delta, but standing there in that room, seeing Natasha Romanoff weakened, kicked down, scared because of the state of the man in the other room, she understood completely. 

"Yes." Fullster was a bit surprised that the agent was honest with her. "I love him more than anyone else on this planet. He's my best friend, my partner, and right now, it feels like my world is falling. We're not halves as some people like to put it, we're two wholes that happen to connect perfectly. I've...my life has been a nightmare from childhood, and he is the only person I really trust. He's the only person who sees me. He's the only person who..." Natasha took in a breath, feeling and hating the tears that were welling up in her eyes. 

"My name is Laura." Dr. Fullster said. "Laura Fullster. I've been with S.H.I.E.L.D. for eleven years and I was married to a man, James Brennan, for six of them."

"Brennan? Didn't he..."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry." The sincerity of Natasha's words cut into Laura, seeing the facade that everyone else saw be cut down was oddly painful and rejuvenating at the same time. 

"Thank you." Another pause. At this point the air hadn't been silent for ten minutes. Clint was either screaming in pain or begging the doctors to let him die, and flashbacks from the procedure she'd just aided were coming through faster than she could block them. "It's something I wouldn't wish on anyone. It's a pain I'll never really get over. You don't suddenly lose a man you loved for almost a decade..." she blushed and smiled slightly "...I had a crush on him as soon as I met him." she supplied. Natasha smiled as well. " You don't...lose the person you've loved for that long and really ever get over it. The memory of them will always linger, and will hit you at the worst times. A part of me...a part of me wished he was still alive. Even if he didn't remember me and we never... he'd be alive, and I think I could live with that."

"You'll become the monitor then?" Fury had spoken for the first time in nearly five minutes, so quiet that they'd both forgotten he was there.

"Yes." Laura was mildly surprised at the word coming out of her mouth. "I'll do it. I'm a doctor, if he gets attacks or seizures I can keep him alive." 

"Thank you Dr. Fullster." Fury supplied, nodding at both of them before grabbing his phone and walking out of the room. 

"Can I..." Natasha sounded so weak that Laura wondered if she was really in the Twilight Zone. " ...can I come visit? Will it be too weird with your kids or...?"

"Of course you can visit. You're his best friend right? That's what the kids will learn. They'll love you. It'll all work out." Laura wished she believed in the confidence in her voice, and Natasha looked like she wished she could as well. 

"This is going to be difficult. One day...one day he's going to remember. One day he's going to find out. All this...all of this will come crashing into him. The anger and need to destroy, put in him by Loki, that will be gone but he'll...he's going to be very angry." 

"As long as he doesn't hurt my children I don't care." 

"Clint would never hurt a child." Natasha assured. Laura nodded, deciding that trusting the agent on her word about the man was wise. 

* * *

 

When the day finally did come, four years later, Laura walked into the living room, bouncing baby Nathan on her hip, and was stopped by the appearance of Clint sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, appearing to look into space, his face filled with anger and hurt. 

"Clint?" She asked, nervous. Her instincts were telling her she knew exactly what was...what had happened. 

"Is Nathaniel even mine, or was that a lie as well? Did the memory of...are all my memories of you and our life together a lie?" Laura sighed and put Nathan in a play pen nearby, before sitting gently next to Clint on the couch.

"All of them are yours in every way that counts." Laura replied, and her words were truthful. Her first son and her daughter had taken to Clint fast, and they considered him their father, no questions asked. They loved him with the intensity that only could be brought by a child for their parent. 

"Laura..." 

"Fury thought it would...it would be good if you...no." 

"Fury thought." The hollow laugh that Clint let out made Laura flinch. "You're an agent."

"Yes. Well...I'm a doctor. I've got the training for the field but I'm a doctor."

"You looked familiar." Clint commented after they spent a few minutes in silence. "I mean of course you look familiar now, but as I...as I was remembering everything I got this flash of you in the lobby of the old Headquarters..." 

"I met you and Natasha briefly about seven years ago." Laura admitted, sitting back into the couch. "I was married back then to another agent, James Brennan..."

"I remember him. He was a good agent, a good man. I was...his death was awful." Laura nodded. "Is he James'? I mean did he ever freeze...in case maybe..."

"No." Laura admitted. "I...met someone. A couple of years ago. They don't ...he's a good man. He knows I'm married but...it's intense." Clint nodded. "Clint I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...I mean he...Fury wasn't exactly clear on..." 

"No, Laura, it's fine." Clint turned towards her, the anger was gone but the hurt still lingered. Laura wanted in that moment one of two things; either the world to swallow her whole in that moment, or that he never remembered, never discovered the truth. She loved him, but not in the way she'd been pretending to for four years. "I mean especially when I have...I've had certain dreams about..." Dear god he's blushing, she thought, she couldn't stop the laugh that erupted from seeing him blush like that, and it earned her a smile. 

"Pretty sure those are memories, not just dreams." Laura commented, smiling teasingly. She nudged him with her elbow and Clint rolled his eyes. "I do love you Clint, just not the way I've been pretending to." 

"I love you too. In the same fashion." Clint replied. Laura's smile turned sad, and she leaned towards him, giving him a peck on the cheek before getting up slowly. "You should keep the place. I'll tell Fury to keep the money coming. He owes me. Big time." 

"What do I tell the kids?" Laura asked, picking up a fussing Nathan.

"You can...you can say that I've been called away from work, a long job. In a few months, tell them, gently, that we haven't been ...that we're getting a divorce and that with how dangerous and time consuming my job is, I can't come visit." Laura could hear his heart breaking the more he spoke, and she'd be lying if a bit of her own heart wasn't breaking as well. The children loved him and the feeling was mutual. This was costing him just as much as it was costing her. The phone rang, but Clint let it go. He sighed before getting up off the couch and grabbing a large duffel bag from a hallway closet. "I'll take what I need for now and have the rest sent for." Laura nodded, tears falling down her cheek. 

" I'm sorry." She said again, her breathing interrupted by the tears and sadness that were coursing through her.

"I am too. We had a good life for awhile there."

"We did." 

"I just...wish it hadn't ended like this."

"I do too." Clint went about gathering things he'd need, weapons, clothing, papers and the like. When he finished, Laura was standing at the counter in the kitchen, putting some pieces of fruit in a bag that looked pretty full. "Sending me with a picnic?"Laura smiled and rolled her eyes, tying off the bag with the two strings that were on either side of it, and pushing it across the counter to him. 

"You eat more than a horse and you have a long trip ahead of you. I'm not letting you go without your favorites. I love you too much for that." Clint put the bag and the other backpack and weapons bag down, went around the counter, and took Laura into a tight hug. She hugged back just as hard, and when they pulled away, she was crying again. "You don't dare be a stranger alright? Even if the kids can't see you...call me alright? Call me and we'll meet for dinner or something every once in awhile. I've grown pretty attached to you Barton." 

"And I you Fullster." Laura laughed and leaned up, kissing him lightly before backing away and wiping at her tears with the backs of both her hands. 

With a weight on his shoulders that was not caused by the bags he was carrying, he left the house for the last time, letting the reality of his situation wash over him. 

* * *

 

When Natasha returned to the Avengers tower,  a particularly long and grueling mission behind her, she sensed him before she saw him. She always was able to feel him in some way, and his presence was intense as soon as the helicopter touched down on the pad. There was a shift though, something told her he was angry, and he was angry at several people, including her. 

Her worst nightmare, as soon as she agreed to this T.A.H.I.T.I solution, was the look he was going to give her one day. Her worst fear was the feeling that look would bring. The feelings behind the look. Betrayal, anger, distrust. 

She feared the day he found out what they did in order to save him, the day they'd gone against the wishes he was crying out in that room. The day they turned him into something and someone different. The day they decided to create a version of his life that was a lie. They both had extreme trust issues and their ability to trust each other had been essential in their work. The day that would be shattered was the day she dreaded. 

She heard laughter, Steve , Tony, Sam, and...Clint, coming from the gathering space near the bar, and the closer she got to the room the greater the feeling got. When she finally did enter the room, it was to Tony's 'Romanoff! You're back and you only broke three of my tech! It's a new record!', Steve's 'It's good to see you Natasha.', Sam's 'Yo girl, come  take a seat and tell us everything!' and Clint's 'Hello Natasha, mission go well?'.

Her heart began to beat rapidly, the fear and anguish she'd dreaded formed in the pit of her stomach, and pure fear washed over her. As she put on a fake smile and greeted them all, Clint was watching her. As she sat down next to Sam and took his beer away from him, pretending to be as casual as possible, she could feel his eyes burn holes in her. 

Her world was crashing down once more, and the same man was the cause. The only difference is this time the look of sadness, anger, and betrayal was his own, it was real.

He knew.

 

The End. 


	8. You Can Never Go Home Again (Clint and Natasha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He couldn't go to the Tower, he had no home in Iowa anymore, and wherever Natasha was...he would stay far away. As the civil war that has sprung within the Avengers hits an 'eye of the storm' of sorts, Clint Barton turns to an old friend for help, and helps to show that there is more than one type of strong love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Along the same lines as the story in the chapter "Last Chance Francis", Clint's family was a cover for him being T.A.H.I.T.I'd. Could be considered a sequel or part 2. 
> 
> Spoilers for some dialogue that got released for Civil War!!!!!

* * *

 

He was battered, bruised, tired, and just wanted to sleep for 24 hours straight without having to spring awake in a heartbeat to answer Steve's call for another mission. The war, this stupid fight over the hero registration had gone too damn far and Clint himself was starting to consider that maybe waving the white flag would be a good idea for both sides.

He knew he'd always be the type to be part of a war, but a war within the Avengers? That was pretty messed up.

So during a stand still in their fight, he wanted to rest, to get away from everyone, except he had one problem; he had no where to go. 

Couldn't go back to the Tower without pissing off Steve or begging Tony (That sure as hell was not happening.). 

Couldn't go to the farm in Iowa anymore, his entire marriage and life with 'his' children being a lie and all.  (The worst part of that whole thing being that he knew if he called Laura and told her what was going on, she'd let him stay there in a heartbeat. But he couldn't do that to her or her children.) 

And Natasha...

_The last time they had seen each other, they'd parted ways on fairly good terms given the circumstances._

_"We're still friends, right?" She had asked him eying him up on his perch on the building she had walked up to._

_"It depends on how hard you hit me." He'd replied jokingly, smiling at her and earning a smile back._

_"Well then..." Natasha jumped to the first awning, pulling herself up and then climbing the building with surprising speed. "...let's get this started shall we? I know you have the flash drive Clint." Clint stood up to his full height, stretching out his neck and arms, before taking out a small black and blue flash drive, waving it in front of her as she climbed, and then, with a smirk that was all him, made it vanish with a couple movements of his hands. Natasha pulled herself up and over the edge of the roof, and Clint backed off to give her room, smirk still in place._

_"Come and get it Nat." He replied, giving her a look that, if asked by anyone she would lie and say it did nothing, but in reality still sent shivers, the good kind, down her spine. Natasha licked her lips and returned the smirk, walking closer to him as he walked backwards away from her. "Bring it on Spider."_

_"Oh it's going to be brung Carnie." She watched as his left hand grazed against his left thigh, over the holster holding the knives he kept for close combat. "Knives?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow, which brought a mirrored response from him._

_"Spider Bites?" He replied in a mocking tone._

_"That's fair." Natasha conceded, and they lunged at each other._

That had been two days ago, and his current injuries had come from a fight he'd helped Wanda with; Hydra agents, ordered by a new leader, to capture Wanda and bring her to facilities in the U.S. . He'd be damned if he or anyone on their team, no matter what side they were on in this current war, let Hydra take Wanda again. They'd fought off the agents and agreed to split up after to avoid possible issues. The lull in their little civil war was proving to be very stressful. 

And now he was in need of medical help and had no where to go.

Which meant he had to call in a huge favor, one he'd been saving for more dire straits than this but he was getting desperate. Taking out a burner he never used but always made sure was working, he hit the speed dial for the only number on the phone.  

"Clint?! Clint are you alright? What's going on? Where are you? Clint, talk to me you asshole, what..." Clint never would have assumed that hearing the voice of one of his exes would be so melodical in his life, both because it meant she was still alive, and that she was still willing to pick up for him.

"I'm fine...well okay, I'm not fine, but I'm also not dying." He paused for a second and then added "Anymore."

"Not dying _anymore_? Clint you have got to be fucking with me right now, I've seen the news and heard the gossip, what the hell is going on? What do you mean not dying anymore? Where are you?" Clint heard a voice in the background and what sounded like Bobbi Morse smacking someone very hard in the arm from the yelp that followed, and smiled. "Sorry, that's just my dumbass ex-husband butting into my business where he _should not be butting into_." He could see her turning her head to glare at the offender and was comforted by the fact that some things never really changed. 

"Hunter? You guys teamed up again?" Clint asked, sucking in a breath when a bullet wound, through and through thankfully, stung in his side. 

"Yeah, it's...a really long story, wow. You sound hurt. Clint, just tell me where you are. Are you in the country?"

"Yes." 

"Countryside, city, small town...?" Bobbi's voice trailed off in question. 

" Oh god... I was in Flagstaff yesterday but the fight took a really weird turn when I had to jump on this Hydra jet to help get Wanda out and I think...I'm pretty sure I'm in Albuquerque now." He replied, looking around for a sign. 

"You jumped. On a Hydra jet. To get someone out of it." No question, just repeating of facts, and from her tone she was not happy. "Goddammit Clint..." 

"I know, I know." He heard another voice, ask 'Who jumped on a Hydra jet?' to Bobbi, and another round of Bobbi going 'shhhh!', before she spoke to him again. Suddenly, he spotted a flyer on the ground and moved, carefully, to pick it up. "Yep, I'm in Albuquerque. Near a..." Clint turned around to see the sign of the hotel a few hundred yards away " near an Econo Lodge. Hiding up in a hill." 

"Stay there." Bobbi hissed. He heard her getting up and the flurry of sounds that accompanied someone quickly putting their stuff together. "You aren't that far away. I'll be there in four hours. Can you hold on that long?" Clint bit back a sarcastic comment when he heard the genuine concern in her voice. 

"Yeah. I can hold on." 

"Helicopter or..."

"SUV is less conspic...you know what, never mind, not with the logo on the side."

"We spray painted them off." Bobbi added.

"SUV then."

"See you soon. Don't die you asshole, I wouldn't deal with that very well." 

"I love you too Bobbi." he replied sincerely, before the line went dead. 

It was dark by the time he saw the SUV park near a trailhead nearby, and Bobbi and another young woman with brown hair up in a ponytail, get out. (Thank you night vision goggles.) . He watched them hike up the trail slowly, and when they were twenty feet away, Bobbi sang out. 

"Hush little baby, don't say a word..."

"Papa's going to buy you a mockingbird." Clint sang back. Bobbi rushed over in his direction, the other woman trailing after her, holding a medical bag. 

"Clint! Jesus Christ you've been shot like...three times, how did you last this long? Is that a knife wound? Clint what the hell happened to your head?" Bobbi helped him sit up better against the boulder behind him, and the other young woman walked up and kneeled down on his other side, taking out supplies and snapping on gloves. "This is Dr. Jemma Simmons." Bobbi provided. "She's a friend of mine and the best doctor I've ever met. You're in good hands." Clint was sure from the expression he saw on Dr. Simmons' face, illuminated by the headlamp she'd put on, that she was blushing. It was hard to tell for sure in the light. 

"Hello Agent Barton." Dr. Simmons, English accent, greeted, dousing cotton swabs in a small bowl with rubbing alcohol and antiseptic. 

"Dr. Simmons." He replied. 

"I'm going to clean off your wounds a bit, give you something for the pain, and then we're going to get you back to the SUV and take you to the Playground for further treatment. Does that sound good to you?" Clint nodded and Dr. Simmons went to work. The three of them were silent until they got him in the SUV and took off for the Playground. 

"So...the Playground? I don't think I've been there in years. I thought it had been decommissioned by Fury."

"It was, well, for awhile it was." Dr. Simmons replied from her spot in the passenger's seat up front. "After S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, we needed a new place to use as headquarters and to hide so..." 

"Fury reinstated it." Clint finished.

"Yes." Bobbi replied. "I... the director won't exactly be pleased that I snagged the head of our medical division, especially after she...that's another story for another time, snagged our medical director, took one of the cars, and left base without orders to bring...you there. So prepare yourself." 

" I didn't realize S.H.I.E.L.D. had a director anymore." Clint commented, curious. The two in the front went quiet for a few seconds, and Dr. Simmons coughed awkwardly. 

"Yes well...Fury assigned him as Director last year after the fall and...everything's been kept very quiet, what with everyone scattered and no one quite knowing who to trust..." Dr. Simmons supplied. "It's been intense, as you know."

"Yeah." 

"You should try to get some sleep. Miraculously you don't have a concussion so catching a few hours won't kill you. Literally." Dr. Simmons called back. "It's a long drive."

"I'd listen to her if I were you." Bobbi half joked from the driver's seat. "She'll reach back and tranq you if you don't. Trust me. There was this incident last month where one of our agents got infected with this sort of rager virus..." Clint swore he heard Dr. Simmons say _'Again!'_ and filed that away for later query. "... and this girl here, she wasn't even officially supposed to be on this mission, but she takes the tranq she likes to use for this stuff, this girl runs up behind him, jumps on his back, and jams the tranq into his neck right as he's about to strike me out with a metal pole. And this is a big guy too. Over six feet tall, bulky, it was a bold move." Clint could hear the admiration in Bobbi's voice and the fluster in Dr. Simmons' when she said 'Oh stop it, anyone would have done it, you were in danger!' , and decided that Jemma Simmons was definitely someone he needed to get to know well.  

"Impressive." Clint commented, as a yawn forced it's way up his throat. 

"Indeed." Bobbi replied. "Sleep Clint, we'll talk later. 

When Clint did wake, hours upon hours later, he was in a med bay bed, changed into what looked like comfortable scrub like pajamas, and had an IV drip in his arm. 

"Oh look, you're awake, how lovely. And how are you feeling Agent Barton?" He turned to see Dr. Simmons, lab coat on, hair down, standing next to the bed to his left, holding a clipboard, and looking at him expectantly. 

"Uhhh...groggy but a lot better than I felt before." Clint responded, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position. Dr. Simmons set the clipboard down and helped him, before picking it back up and scribbling a few things on the papers clipped on. 

"Good. We drugged you a bit more when I stitched you up, just to make it easier for everyone involved. But your vitals are good and you're recovering nicely. Would you like something to eat? I can have something sent in." 

"I..." suddenly his stomach growled, loudly, and Dr. Simmons smiled. "yes, that would be great." 

"Can he drink coffee if it's decaffeinated?" Clint turned his head to see Bobbi sitting in the chair next to the bed on the other side, smiling.

"Yes, I think that would be alright." Dr. Simmons replied.

"Good. Coffee, lots of it. This man is a big coffee drinker. It'll help. And as far as food goes, he's not what you call picky, but I know he likes pizza and all the other things that are unhealthy and would make a heart surgeon cry." Bobbi offered.

"I believe we have plenty of all of that in the cafeteria. I'll call in an order." Dr. Simmons wrote a few more things in the medical history before setting the clip board down on a desk, and turning to pick up a phone. She was about to dial when a young man, a bit taller than her with slightly curled hair, entered the room, looking as if he'd run.

"Fitz!" Dr. Simmons and Bobbi snapped at the same time, causing him to look at everyone in the room. The young man, Fitz, blushed when he saw Clint lying in the bed.

"I...well...you see...hello Agent Barton, I'm Leopold Fitz, engineer and all around blunderer today it seems." Scottish accent this time. Both he and Simmons looked so young yet there was something about them, in their eyes and the auras they gave off, that bespoke a life of terror, seeing things no one was ever meant to see, and hardships no one was ever meant to feel, and it broke his heart. He felt like he did when he met Natasha all those years ago. Hardly harmless but oddly fragile at the same time, she, as well as these two, were forces to be reckoned with. How did that saying go again? Damaged people are dangerous, because they know they can survive.  

"Hello Mr...Doctor? Dr. Fitz." Fitz blushed, the man actually blushed, before turning to Dr. Simmons. 

"Jems," Fitz began, looking anxious. "...we ah, need you to come quick, to the training room. Lincoln managed to electrocute himself." Clint could tell, from the glint of amusement in the man's face, that it wasn't life threateningly serious, and wondered who this Lincoln was.

" _Again_?" Dr. Simmons asked in exasperation. "Well at least he didn't electrocute Daisy this time. I don't know how many more times we can replace the windows without it looking off. Hold on, I just need to call in this food order for Agent Barton then I'll be right over." 

"Alright." He walked over to her and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, before leaning in and saying "And don't forget to wear those rubber gloves, he's still kind of...shocky." 

"Oh my _god_..." Dr. Simmons began, making Fitz run off laughing. She rolled her eyes before calling in the order, telling Clint and Bobbi she'd be back later, and rushing out of the room with her medical bag. 

"Are they...?" Clint asked, nodding towards the direction Dr. Simmons had run off. 

"Oh yeah. Before they even realized they were."Bobbi replied, smirking. "It was almost painful to watch. Kind of like when you and Romanoff were dancing around each other. It was _so_ obvious and you two were _so slow_." Clint flushed.

"We were not that obvious." Clint insisted, knowing that his rebuttal sounded weak. Bobbi rolled her eyes. 

"Surrre it wasn't. You couldn't cut the air in the room with a saw with the amount of sexual tension between you two." 

"Bobbi..."

"Clint." Bobbi replied in an imitation of his voice. "So, what's the deal with you and her now? I hear the Avengers are duking it out among themselves because of the hero registry. How are you two fairing?" 

"Different sides." Clint stated.

"You're on....?"

"Steve Rogers' side, and she's on Tony Starks'." 

"Huh. I would have figured she'd be on Cap's side. But you never know with people I guess." Bobbi pulled her chair closer to the bed and took his left hand in hers. "You scared me Clint. When I heard that burner phone go off, I...I was worried. You and I agreed to only use it when ...when we thought we were for sure dying so..." 

"I know, I'm sorry." Clint's tone was sincere and his expression morphed into one of pain and guilt. "Bobbi?"

"Yeah?" 

" Do you know about T.A.H.I.T.I.?" By the change in her expression, horror mixed with sadness, he figured she did know before she even replied. "How did you find out?"

"Our Director...he went through it. I was told about it by Agent May." She fiddled with the corners of his bed spread with her now freed left hand, and sighed. 

"I...I've had the procedure." That made Bobbi's head shoot up, and the most pained expression he'd ever seen on her face, appear.

"What...why...when?" 

"After the battle in New York, four years ago." Clint replied. "I guess...I... Loki he..."

"I read about that." Bobbi filled in. "It sounded awful. I hated reading about it, especially since the person who did the write up I got a hold of was a complete asshole." 

" I did so many awful things...."

"No you didn't, Loki did! Don't you dare say you are a bad person Clint Barton because you are not." Bobbi hissed, leaning close. "The only people who get to rag on you and give you crap are me and Romanoff and we would never say that shit so you don't get to say it either, got it?" Clint nodded, smiling sadly. 

"Got it. Anyway, three days later, after the battle was over and Loki was gone, I...I attacked Natasha in our hotel room in Maine." The shame that washed over him , the look in his eyes, made Bobbi's heart break all over again. She hated seeing someone she cared so much about in so much pain. "Loki may have technically been taken out of me so to speak, but his influence, the anger, it was still there, and it was driving me literally to insanity. What he did to me...he had a hold on me and Dr. Selvig but somehow...somehow mine was worse, and I was violent and I came within an inch of killing Natasha..."

"Clint, that wasn't..."

"My fault? Yes it was. I ...the worst part of the whole mind control thing is you are fully aware of what you are doing while you are doing it, you just... she had to electrocute me. With those Spider Bites." 

"She knocked you out? That's not much of a case for..."

"No, Bobbi, I mean she had to electrocute me to death." Clint cut in. "She knocked me out, and then electrocuted me again until I stopped breathing. Then she called Fury in tears apparently, telling him what happened, and before she knew it I was being taken to that place and..." 

"I was told that the procedure is worse than death." Bobbi's voice was quiet, almost scared. "That during it you wish for nothing more than to be allowed to die..." 

"You do." Clint's head fell back on the pillows and he sighed, feeling's Bobbi's grip on his hand tighten. 

"You kind of went ghost on me for about three or four  years." Bobbi commented, trying to smile but failing. "What happened?" Clint took a deep breath and let it out, preparing to tell her everything. The food arrived, and he noticed that Dr. Simmons had ordered enough for both of them, making him smile a genuine smile. When they were situated with their food and coffee (Caffeinated for Bobbi, decaffeinated for Clint.), Clint took a bite of his food before beginning his story.

"So there's this doctor that used to work at the facility named Laura Fullster..." 

It took an hour to tell the story in full, all the while Bobbi's expression constantly changed between mortified, amused, bemused, and concerned. When he finished up the story, ending with his confrontation with Natasha at the Avenger's tower before all hell once again broke loose, Bobbi was frowning. 

"Romanoff loves you very much. I know she likes to say that love is for children and she can't love, but I've seen it Clint. She loves you a lot." Clint hadn't exactly been expecting those to be the first words his ex said after telling such a story, but he felt oddly...relieved to hear her say them. "Me and Hunter...I love him a lot as well. We've hurt each other, me more so in the last couple of years, although I didn't really mean too. I thought I was protecting him and I ended up getting him into more danger. He was so angry with me, even after I got shot..." Clint's eyebrows shot up and she rolled her eyes. " Story for another time. Anyway, he was still so angry with me and I understood, but you do some crazy things, including lie, to protect the people you love the most." 

"I know." They stayed in the silence for a few minutes, comfortable to just be around each other, before Clint broke the silence again. "This war...this civil war going on within our ranks is ridiculous, even I know that. I took a side, I'm fighting, and even I think this fight is stupid. The world is never going to be safe as long as we're all fighting so damn much between ourselves. It's like an  epidemic." 

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"About four or five days ago. We fought over a flash drive with information and names on it relating to the whole hero registry." Bobbi smirked and leaned over to grab something out of the night stand next to the bed. She extracted a small black and blue flash drive, and held it up. "Yep, that's it."

"You dog, you won that fight! I'm proud of you. Romanoff is a force to be reckoned with." They sat in silence for awhile longer before Clint started laughing. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just...I should probably get some sleep." Bobbi nodded, getting up slowly and giving his hand a squeeze one last time. 

"You're right. It's getting late and you need to rest." Bobbi agreed. "Don't be afraid to use the call button. Dr. Simmons is a night owl. If you are in pain just ...please..."

"I will." Bobbi nodded and leaned down, kissing him on his forehead. 

"It's good to see you Clint. I missed you. I'll always miss my best friend." Bobbi said, voice void of humor and and trickery. Clint nodded. 

"Back atcha." he replied. "You better get out there before Hunter tries to slip some sort of drug into my IV tonight that makes me dance around without clothes on." 

"What?" Bobbi swung around to look out the door into the hallway, and sure enough she caught a glimpse of Hunter's hand as he thought he was stealthily getting out of sight. "What a little shit." She muttered. "I told him I needed to spend time with my best friend. That it was important. What..."

"Does he know you and I were together for three years?" Clint asked.

"I think I mentioned it once...oh. Wow, what a dork." Bobbi said, laughing. Clint smiled. "I'll come visit later. You sleep Bird Brain."

"That I will _Barbara_." Bobbi smacked him lightly on his good leg with a magazine, and he laughed, making her grin again. 

"I love you Clint, you coffee guzzling piece of trash. You're my best friend and I don't want you to forget that." 

"I won't. I love you too. Now go placate your obviously upset significant other." 

Clint drifted off to sleep to the sounds of hospital machinery, the humming of the generators within the Playground, the occasional voice and footsteps in the hallway, feeling, for the first time, at ease.

As he was just about to slip off into his dreams, he heard it. Footsteps coming into his room, going over to the chair Bobbi had abandoned, and, just as he slipped into unconsciousness and a world of dreaming...

"Barton...I'm so sorry I lied to you and Natasha...it wasn't my intent. I heard you've also been to...T.A.H.I.T.I. ..." 

The End.

 

 

 


	9. The Other Safe House (Bobbi & Clint)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers may have known about his secret 'safe house' in Iowa, but there was one he'd only ever and would ever share information with Natasha on, a secret safe house that moved as a person moved. In these times however, Natasha no longer knew this safe house's secrets. That just means the safe house has to bring her in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N This is another Bobbi/Clint Friendship one because I love them that's why. Lots of Bobbi/Lance and Clint/Natasha too.

* * *

 

Clint Barton arrives on the doorstep of Bobbi Morse's newest safehouse in Wales two months after the S.H.I.E.L.D. civil war breaks out. She looks him over, eyebrows raised, but says nothing as she steps aside and waves him in. She helps him, after she notices the limp, into the living room and onto one of the couches, Lance looking taken aback, not so much by his presence but his appearance. He opens his mouth, but Bobbi shoots him a look and he closes it. 

"Beer, mate?" Lance asked in lieu of his other words, and Clint nods. Lance gets up and leaves the room and the friends, to silence and the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. 

Bobbi already has her med bag and is zipping it open, still not having said a word since Clint arrived, and is starting on the large gash on Clint's arm before Clint speaks. 

"Bobbi..." Clint risked the rather large amount of pain shooting through his neck to turn and look at her. She gives him a look that asked a question, several in fact, without uttering a word. "It happened yesterday. I was in France. I got helped by a terrified GP in a tiny surgery in Caanes. And no..." he takes in a breath as Bobbi starts in on the arm with a cloth with iodine, a bit rougher than is necessary. "...she didn't do this." Bobbi paused for a moment, considering, before she nodded and continued with her task. Lance has taken way longer than is necessary, and all three people in the house know as much. A part of Clint is grateful to the man for being so understanding, and another part of him is wishing he was back to put a barrier in between him and his ex. 

A few more minutes of silence pass as Bobbi continues to work. She was half way done suturing his arm before she spoke.

"I have this friend, Leo Fitz," she begun, never taking her eyes off his arm, her expression one of calm, collected concentration " he is in love with another friend of mine, and for a long time he didn't...he didn't believe her when she tried to tell him, to show him that she loved him. She;s done some rather radical things in the name of her love for him, and he's done the same for her. They're idiots." Clint smiled at that and Bobbi smiled as well. "I love them both dearly, which of course, is why they are idiots in my mind. Doing such drastic, potentially fatal things... they're going to give me a heart attack one day. I'm telling you now, that's what will kill me. Worrying about the people I love."

"I heard it almost did kill you a couple of years ago." Clint added, his voice strained. She hadn't deemed procaine necessary before starting to work.

"It almost killed me fifteen years ago too." Bobbi added, and noticed how Clint stiffened up slightly. "But I'd never take it back. Not in a million years." 

"You could have lost an arm. You could have... you almost lost your head when that guy..."

"And you," she continued, hands steady but voice shaking a tiny amount "lost  ninety percent of the hearing in your right ear, and three months in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Critical Condition ward from your injuries."

"You were there for four." 

"And I consider them four months well spent considering you are alive." She'd finished suturing his arm and had looked him right in the eyes. "Anyway," Bobbi moved over, sitting on the other side of Clint on the couch, eying the bleeding through the black, now graying, shirt that he wore under his gear. Clint winced and slowly edged the hem of his shirt up for her to see. "Heart attack Clint." she breathed, seeing the gunshot wound that had gone a little to close to one of his vital organs for her comfort. "A fucking heart attack."

"It was through and through!" Clint said, as if he had shot himself and was trying to defend himself to a disapproving mother. 

"It's a fucking shotgun wound!" Lance had reentered the living room carrying a tray of food and three beers. When Bobbi had shouted, he moved to turn around, only to be greeted by a shout of "Lance, stay here!" from both Bobbi and Clint. His expression would have been hilarious if the situation hadn't been so tense. 

"She didn't do it, but was she the cause of it? Even if she didn't know, even if it was just you being fucking you and therefore unnecessarily putting yourself in danger to save someone." Clint said nothing. Bobbi clenched her jaw and she turned away from him for a minute, her body rising and falling, seething.

"You," Clint began, wincing as he reached for the beer Lance offered. "you agreed with me. When I brought her in you said you liked her..."

"I do Clint!" Bobbi turned around on the couch, facing him, her eyes furious with a hint of frustrated sadness. " I love Natasha like a sister. I care. You know I do. When I met her after you'd brought her in , I told you..."

"You told me 'I like her.' after she tried to snap your neck because you startled her and she still didn't feel one hundred percent safe at S.H.I.E.L.D., yes, I remember."

"You two danced around each other for years, and it was clear how much you two...and then you did and then..." 

"The thing with Laura wasn't...I had been..." 

"I know." Bobbi interrupted, opening her bag and pulling out a syringe. Provocaine. 

"Excuse me?" Lance had sat himself awkwardly on the other sofa as he watched his ex-wife/girlfriend and her best friend bicker, slowly eating one of the pasties he'd heated up, trying very hard not to ask questions or even listen in. That, however, had caught his interest.

"I.Knew. About. Dr.. Fullster." Bobbi punctuated, giving him the injection. 

"How long?" Clint breathed.

"Since the beginning." Bobbi admitted, prepping her limited instruments for the pellet extraction. 

"Bobbi what the hell..." 

"You had died!" Bobbi snapped, tears finally spilling out of her eyes. "You died Clint! You died and Natasha did what she had to do."

"What she had to do? She had to kill me Bobbi! Loki wasn't gone out of me, not entirely, and I nearly killed her so she had to..."

"I know! She told me!" 

"I should have stayed dead! That's what she could have done! She could have left me as I was!" 

"No she couldn't have! You didn't...you don't... she loves you Clint. She loves you more than anything and that is what fueled her decision. It might not have been the best option, but fuck, Clint, she did what her heart was telling her to do. She wanted you back so badly that she did something rash, and irresponsible, and dangerous. She gave up the man she loved to a lie so he could heal. She gave you up to that lie because she truly believed that that was your only chance at happiness!" The room was silent after that, Bobbi deeming it long enough time for the provocaine to have taken affect, and had Clint lay down on the couch. She sat on the table and worked quietly, Lance passing her instruments as she went along. 

"When that guy...that guy from the company..." Clint started, clenching his teeth as she dug another shotgun pellet out of his stomach. "...when he swung that fucking machete at you after you got stuck..." 

"Not now Clint." Bobbi replied, concentrated on the task in front of her. "Lance, you know that stash of morphine drips we kept from the base because..." 

"On it." Lance shot up from his seat, eager for an excuse to leave the room. 

"Bo...Bobbi." Clint tried, his face contorted in pain despite the number. 

"Clint, I know what you are going to say and it's fine." Bobbi offered. "I'm almost done. Three more."

" I love her." 

"I know Clint." Bobbi replied, taking the third to last pellet out, and starting on the second to last. 

"This wasn't her fault." He added.

"I know Clint." Second to last out, final one in progress. 

" What happened with your friends? Leo and the girl he loves." Clint asked, trying to distract himself from the pain as she found and removed the last one.

"When we had to scatter after the civil war broke out," Bobbi started, thankful for the slight change of topic. " they went into hiding in Perthshire."

"Scotland?"

"Yeah." Bobbi doused a few cotton pads with rubbing alcohol and cleaned the wound a second time, eying the trickles of blood coming from his stomach. 

"Pretty place." Lance returned with the morphine and Bobbi let out a sigh of relief. She dressed Clint's stomach wound, and asked Lance to help her slowly move Clint into the guest room. After rigging a drip, Bobbi collapsed into a big chair next to the bed, Lance sitting in one next to her. "Bobbi?" Clint's voice was quiet, faint, the morphine doing it's job.

"Yeah Clint?" 

"You called her didn't you? About twenty...minutes ago when you said you needed to get another set of blankets." Bobbi smiled at her best friend, who rewarded her with a faint smile in return.

"In my defence, I did need to get the blankets too. It gets cold here at night, even with the heating."Bobbi confirmed. 

"You know me and her are on opposite sides with all this?"

"Doesn't matter." Bobbi commented. "She deserved to know. Right now, right here, this house is a side free zone." Clint nodded gently and Bobbi breathed a sigh of relief. "She told me she thought you were still in France."

"Yeah."

"You never told her about...you usually inform her where I am when I go into hiding so she knows where to find you."

"Things have been complica'ed." Clint's words  were starting to slur, sleep overtaking him.

"She keeps that burner I got her." Bobbi noted, the surprise in her voice clear. "Go to sleep Clint. You're safe here."

"I k'ow." With the final set of slurred words, he fell into his sleep, and a room was once again silent, save for the crackling of the fire nearby.

"I'll grab a set of spare pajamas from the attic for Romanoff." Lance said after ten minutes of silence. 

"Thanks." Bobbi was staring at her friend, drugged and wounded, on the guest bed of her house, and Lance felt his heart break for her. 

.............................................................................................

Bobbi woke with a start hours later, gun drawn, ready to protect the men she cared about. The room was dim, the fire on it's way out, a blanket covering her, Lance asleep (Snoring) in the other armchair. She turned to check on Clint. Still sleeping. She checked her watch, 3 am. 

"It's just me." Bobbi hadn't heard her voice in person for nearly five years. She was sitting on the bed next to Clint, already in the pajamas that Lance had set on the dresser on the other side of the room. 

"You hungry?" Bobbi whispered. 

"A bit. But it can wait. How bad is it?" 

"Pretty bad." No need to sugar coat it. 

"Will he be alright?"

"Yeah. A week or so of rest here and he'll be fine." Bobbi stretched, quietly as she could and sighed. "He's safe here."

"I know. The only reason I got in was because of the code you sent me. I'm impressed, I don't think I could have broken in here." Bobbi smiled at the compliment. "Thank you...for being there for him. For taking care of him."

"Of course." Bobbi and Natasha both looked towards the dying fire, the men they loved still fast asleep. 

"I didn't know." The comment came so quick, Bobbi thought for a moment that she had imagined it. Eyebrows furrowed, she turned towards the red head, hair pixie cut short, eyes tired, still looking at the dying flame, confused. 

"Didn't know about...?" 

"I had wondered, briefly, how I had managed to escape that chateau without the guards coming after me." Natasha breathed, her chin falling to her chest. "I just...Stark arrived with Rhodes and I thought they had seen them and were prepping to take them on and..."

"I'm the reason Clint is mostly deaf." Bobbi offered. "Well...okay, not the entire reason he's mostly deaf.  But I fucked up on a mission and he... has he ever told you about the sonic arrows he used to use?" Natasha nodded. "It was the two of us and about thirty hostages at stake. Plus an entire city if we let the bad guys get away with what they'd come to steal...It was a last resort to destroy it. It happened so fast. He shot, there was a sound wave, the bad guys recovered faster than we thought they would. I went to run and got stuck under a fallen piece of the machine. They were going to shoot him and he couldn't hear them coming. I threw one of my batons and... they came after me. Got at one of my arms, and this one guy was about to bring a machete down on my head when suddenly he and his goon friends fell dead to the floor. Clint had turned around and seen them. Shot them all in one swoop with that one arrow set that's attached and detaches in the air. I looked up at him, and right before I blacked out I got to see him fall from the rafters to the cold, concrete floor. He spent three months in critical care and I spent four. We do crazy, dangerous things when the people we love are in danger. And we rarely ever regret them." They didn't talk much after that, both staring at the dying fire as sleep overtook them once again. In the morning, Lance awoke to see Bobbi's head to the side on her chair, Clint still (thankfully) asleep, and a certain red head curled next to him on the bed, her arms wrapped protectively around the archer's good arm. He felt...oddly at peace, watching the odd little group of people he was starting to consider family sleeping peacefully for the first time in ages. 

"Bloody S.H.I.E.L.D.." he muttered, before dozing off once more.

 

The End.

 

 

 


	10. In The Flames We Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's pure chaos, gunfire everywhere, the situation having gone from catastrophic to down right world war level chaos. And in the middle of this chaos, they finally get to talk.

* * *

 

There is another loud crack as the last beam in the row holding up the other half of the shelter shatters. Wanda stalls the collapsing roof long enough for them to run further into the temple. How they ended up Greece of all places, Steve still couldn't fathom. 

"Shit!" Steve hears Clint shout as he skidded and ran into a bannister, the recent bizarre rain having seeped into the place. Another burst of red and he is back on his feet rather than on the other side of the bannister with his skull cracked open. The Temple of Hephaestus was crumbling all around them and they had no where to go but out the other side to more gunfire and potential missiles. 

He wondered, as they continued running, Bucky close next to him, how much longer their loyalty to him and the rights they were fighting for would hold. They'd all been through so much in the last few years that he wouldn't blame them if they fled. He'd tried to get them to flee several times. He knew it was pointless to try and make Bucky run, he'd never leave his side, not anymore. But Wanda had lost her only family. Sam's apartment raided and eventually blown up, the Register people getting him fired from his job. Scott  just getting his life back, only to have it all taken away from him. Clint discovering the life he thought he'd had in private was not a life he'd actually had, losing memories and a life that was not his own. Sharon Carter giving up her life with the CIA and a life free of running to help him because of a devotion long held that he didn't entirely understand but appreciated. He wanted to give them all chances to leave, but none of them would.

"Run!" Wanda shouted to the rest. "Run and take cover!" 

"What are you going to do Maximoff?" Sam hollered back, stalled for a moment. She waved him off, pointing towards the large bushes and trees nearby. 

"My best trick." Wanda replied, smiling, although Steve could see the fear, anger, and exhaustion in her expression. "Not to kill but to slow down." 

"Maximoff..." Steve began. 

"Go, Rogers. I will be there soon. Run!" Wanda gave him a look he was now familiar with. The one that broach no argument. Steve nodded, reluctantly, and turned back towards the shrubbery, Bucky close behind 

Like something out of one of those cliche action movies Sam had insisted he watch, they had just reached the edge of a slope behind the temple and, weighing their options, jumped, when they felt a rumble and saw the sky turn red for a few seconds. By the time they'd landed it was over, but Steve heard the sounds of the repercussions of that act. Stone pieces from the temple hurtling to the ground somewhere far off. Shouting and grunting, the sounds of the Iron Man and War Machine suits crashing to the ground. Guns and sensitive explosives. They didn't have long. Wanda came from nowhere, landed hard nearby, grabbed onto Clint (And Scott, tiny and grabbing onto Clint for dear life.) and ran fast, dragging them behind.

"RUN DAMMIT!" she shouted back. Back on their feet almost as soon as they landed. 

They manage to find a small abandoned house in a maze of homes and hide in there, the locals not saying anything as they limp (In Clint's case, an actual limp.) into the home and bolt the door and blinds. Wanda lays Clint on a cot upstairs, muttering and cursing to herself in her native language as she bandages him up and then refuses to leave his side after he passes out. "He helped us. My brother and me. My brother deemed him worthy of giving his life for him. He clearly cared about him. I care about 'im. Clint Barton is family now. I stay." She told him this with a tone of defiance and finality, and a steely gaze that would intimidate anyone who didn't know her better. She was shaken but determined. If Clint was family to her, she'd stand by him until the end. Steve looked sideways at Bucky, ever present at his shoulder, and understood what she was feeling, so he nodded and turned to leave the room, Scott following, Sam staying, slumped on a couch nearby, exhausted. 

"Well then..." Steve began, as he and Bucky dropped into two chairs in the kitchen, the aches and pains of the last week coursing through them.

"I'm sorry." Bucky cut in, sudden and looking guilt ridden. Steve furrowed his eyebrows. 

"Sorry about what?" 

"For getting you into this mess. For being the reason you're in this mess. For getting your friends in so much trouble, for..."

"Bucky, this was...this was not your fault." Steve began again, looking at him, concerned. 

"Yes it was Steve. Let's face it, would you be pushing this hard if I wasn't a part of this? Would you be willing to risk everything if..." 

"I'm doing what I think is the right thing to do. When have you ever known me to back down from doing what was the right thing to do?" Steve challenged. He knew what Bucky's answer would be, and hoped he wouldn't say it. A look passed between them and the words were said, but not out loud. 

"It's pitting you against your other friends." Bucky commented, getting back up and wandering around the kitchen in search of anything left behind by the previous owners. "So much has been lost already. Property destroyed. Lives destroyed. People are dead..."

"People are always dying Bucky." Steve wondered when that comment became to easy for him to say. When did he become so flippant when it came to lives lost in the world today? 

"Doesn't make it right."

"I never said it did." Steve snapped back. Silence filled the room, and Bucky found what he was looking for. Alcohol. Some sort of brandy. It'd have to do. 

"I left you." Bucky said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"You saved my life..."

"I'm not talking about by the lake." Bucky corrected. "I'm talking about..." 

" You didn't leave me, you fell out of a speeding train into a river. That's kind of a difficult situation to control. Especially during gunfire." 

"I made a promise..."

"Promises can't always be kept in times of war Bucky..." 

"You were...are...my family. I made a promise years...decades ago, you don't leave..."

"Wanda lost her brother. He died during the battle in Sokovia, saving Clint and a child. I have never seen grief so powerful as hers. It was palpable. You could actually feel it reverberating through the air, and all around her for months after. She felt like she'd failed him but she is moving on. Finding her new purpose in life. She mourns her brother and always will but she is not letting herself feel responsible for what happened." 

"I've...I've killed so many people..." Bucky sat back down in his chair with a loud thump, and Steve worried that it would break. "I...Steve...I killed Tony's parents. I'm remembering everything, every bad thing I did...I..."

"You weren't in your right mind Bucky. You were being controlled..." 

"That doesn't make me any less guilty of my crimes Steve..."

"I..."

"You're in this because of me, and I will be damned if I let another life lost be because of me, especially if it's someone I love." 

"You won't." 

"You can't know that Steve." 

"I'm not leaving you Bucky. I'm sticking by you until the end. I said it before, and I say it now. You can't get rid of me  that easily. Just like that alley fight when we were little kids, I will keep swinging until I can't swing anymore." Bucky couldn't help the eye roll that came after that statement, and Steve laughed. 

"You're still the scrawny kid from Brooklyn who doesn't know when to stand down from a fight Rogers. And it'll get you killed one day." Bucky replied. 

"I know. And you're still the stubborn ass who sticks by my side, despite the danger that comes from being close to me."

"Who would have thought that one day that little runt of a human would become one of the world's most famous heroes. The danger that comes from being close to you?" Bucky imitated, somewhat amused. 

"It's true." Steve replied. "Clint, Wanda, Sam, Scott, I am responsible for them being in this mess. And the others...even if we're on opposing sides. Sharon Carter's holed up in a bunker somewhere now, recovering from being nearly blown up, all in the name of...me."

"We're 'ere because we believe in you. In what you stand for. We fight and we bleed and we...die, because we know you have a good heart. We're here of our own accord Captain." Steve and Bucky started when she had spoken. She had made no noise coming down the steps, and was now standing at the doorway of the kitchen looking tired, beaten, and sore. She was favoring a leg and Steve could see the slight twitching in her left arm. " I did not mean to interrupt, but by chance...ah!" Wanda walked over to the table and snatched the bottle of brandy quickly, before peering out the window at something in the garden. On edge and wary, she walked out and saw a basket of food on top the garden wall. She hoisted herself upwards and peered over the wall in time to see a group of small children running down the alleyway outside. Smiling softly, she took the basket, set it on the table, and snatched a few things up from it before disappearing up the stairs as quietly as she'd come down. 

"She's right you know." Bucky said after a few minutes of silence. "We follow because we believe." 

"Even if following may lead you into the fire? To death? That's quite a responsibility to hold Bucky." Steve replied, grabbing some bread from the basket and collapsing back into his chair as well. 

"Well you'll just have to deal with it then. Captain." Bucky's smirk was infuriating in that moment, but Steve rolled his eyes none the less. Here before him was his family, the person he loved most in the world. Steve and Bucky, as it always had been. They were not the same people they'd been before the war, they never would be, but some parts of their old selves remained still.

And it was those parts, along with the souls of the other people in the home, and several others like them, that were following him into the flames.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> A/N I take prompts!


End file.
